


A Space Bridge Away

by Deceptibots (74832905), 小蜂子theCybermania (74832905), 義戰 (74832905)



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alien Culture, Alien Politics, Assassination, Barbarism, Body Horror, Brainwashing, Bureaucracy, Censorship, Corruption, Crime, Cultural Differences, Decepticon seekers became popular pleasurebots, Discrimination, Drug Abuse, Espionage, Euphoria, Euthanasia, Execution, Family, Fight for Freedom, Fugitives, Gangbang, Geeks, Guardians - Freeform, Hierarchy, History, Homicide, Homosexuality, Humanity, Humiliation, Impregnation, Imprisonment, Intaking, Investigations, Jurisdiction, Justice, Link Severing, Logical continuity, Loyalty, Masturbation, Misunderstandings, Mothering, Multi, Murder, Mutilation, Mutiny, Nepotism, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Non-consensual Porn Making, Oppression, Overdose, Parental Love, Pedophilia, Philanthropy, Planning Adventures, Port interface, Poundverse, Premeditation, Rape Game, Rape/Non-con Elements, Relinking, Reprogramming, Reseal, Revolution, Robot interfacing, Romance, Sabotage, Sequel to the pound with all due respect, Size Kink, Slave Training, Slum, Spark Merging, Sparklings, Spiking, Sticky, Subterfuge, Surveillance, Survival, Therapy, Torture, Underage - Freeform, Utopia, Voyeurism, Wheeljack is wealthy!, all types of Cybertopnian ways of reproduction, baby bathing, carrier, clumsy and cute, delivery, detailed description of alien food, dichotomy, diplomatic issues, dipsomania, gestalt leader, gestalt reunion, hiding from enforcers, human influence, interfacing, intimate, juvenile, kiss learned from humans, lobotomization, magalomania, make the world a better place, meticulous science, non-sticky, pilfering, political issues, postbellum, power abuse, power rival, procured by brothels, protecting sparklings, religious issues, robotic surgical/cosmetic/functional improvements, run for life, self-sacrificing, sensual, sex edu to sparklings, sire, spark link, systems impairing, techinical tampering, trine mate, tyranny, warped law
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:29:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 49
Words: 52,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22311070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/74832905/pseuds/Deceptibots, https://archiveofourown.org/users/74832905/pseuds/%E5%B0%8F%E8%9C%82%E5%AD%90theCybermania, https://archiveofourown.org/users/74832905/pseuds/%E7%BE%A9%E6%88%B0
Summary: The planet of Cybertron was such a mess after the war, what happened to 'Freedom is the right of all sentient beings?', how will everything work out?This is a sequel to The Pound, where the Autobots and Decepticons will restore the world without oppression together, ultimately, Pax Cybertronia.However, Primus wasn’t about to make things easy, actually, he made everybody taken aback.
Relationships: Barricade/Race Track Patrol, Basically Everything Inherited from The pound, Bumblebee/Sam Witwicky, Bumblebee/Soundwave, Crosshairs/Anonymous Decepticon Sparkling, Crosshairs/Ironhide, Dreadwing/Skyquake, Groudhog/Barricade, Groundhog/Motorhead, Jazz/Barricade, Jazz/Sparklings, Optimus Prime/Sentinel Prime, Ramjet/Thrust, Ratchet/Wheeljack, Sideswipe & Sunstreaker, Skywarp/Starscream/Thundercracker, Wheeljack/ADS
Comments: 18
Kudos: 35





	1. Crosshairs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Steena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steena/gifts), [QAtheAuthoress74](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QAtheAuthoress74/gifts), [blackdragonqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackdragonqueen/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The pound](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13418424) by [Steena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steena/pseuds/Steena). 
  * Inspired by [Riding A Sunset](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17648414) by [QAtheAuthoress74](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QAtheAuthoress74/pseuds/QAtheAuthoress74). 
  * Inspired by [Cover Me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/489828) by [blackdragonqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackdragonqueen/pseuds/blackdragonqueen). 



He was expecting another ruthless guard to clean him up, instead, a micro-framed mech entered, a Decepticon youngling! This was a young seeker, shoulder wings wide, spreading out from two sides, Decepticon logos all over his helm, two large orbs of red optics filled with fear, and innocence. He was basically in good shape save for the several dents on his chest plate. Panels open, probably locked, without the arrays beneath, only the wires and pipelines of the vulnerable protoform, _sparklings this age still require updates to get fully functional arrays._ He carried a piece of sponge and a small bucket of solvent.

“H-Hello, sir, they sent me to clean you up.” His voice soft, an adaption of a human child, _after the war on earth, he couldn’t know better._ “P-Please show me your arrays.”

Humiliation rose and fell, he felt more curious than ashamed. And he did as he was told. “Wha’tye name, sweetie?”

The sparkling seemed startled by the question. His optics widened when he was deciding the most harmless answer. “Sorry, sir, I don’t know anymore. I am slave-452”

 _Anymore?_ “So ye had a name b’fore, right, wha’ happened?” Fury began to emanate from his spark.

The sparkling hesitated, as if wondering if he should answer the question, his optics flickered in determination before he answered. “I remembered that I knew, my guardians gave me a name, but I was took away from them after the war and any memory before that was wiped out. I have to behave well to know who I am and get my guardians back. One day my spark link with them was severed and I cried all day, the master was nice to me and said they went too far away to maintain the link, if I behave better, I would see them again. So I work hard.” He shamelessly brandished his sponge.

  
_Far away?_ Bullshit! If Crosshairs didn’t know better, this means they were _deactivated!_ He suppressed his urge to reveal the truth and kept asking, “ Wha’ did they make ye do?” He regretted the question because he didn’t really want to know.

  
His optics dimmed, and his systems ran faster in anxiety “I’ve cleaned arrays every day since I came here and sometimes they do weird things on me....” Crosshairs tried to stop him but the sparkling continued. “Different Autobots put digits into my intake to touch my glossa, they also stick different objects like keys or Energon bars into my waste port and order me to get the bar out myself and eat it, it was disgusting but I follow or they would punish me and it feels strange to have the bar inside me." He shamelessly reached for his uncovered wasteport and as he was talking. "Although they kept saying that I was too small for spikes, whatever that is, it felt terrible when an Autobot used it once and I bit him, he beat me into stasis, the nice master here saved me again. He told me I couldn’t do it again and that was the prerequisite for the career of my functioning. A pleasurebot. However it was different from the world outside, where sparklings like me can go to academy and do something more interesting, when I asked the Autobots, they just said I couldn’t and I had no rights, they kept sticking me with their digits and told me that’s all I have to do, things like that.”

The sparkling kept talking as if he _finally_ found someone willing to listen. Crosshairs can barely suppress his fury.

“The most interesting thing is my voice, they said I have to use this voice until I get my updates, it’s funny though. And when the time comes, that said I can get the best arrays ever.” The sparkling chuckled, his voice somehow sounded proud.

Crossehairs however, felt desperate, when is this shit ever gonna end? Sometimes time he wished that he’d never had the primus-slag arrays.

He sobbed through the process, the sparkling kept asking if he was OK as his small servo jerked inside him nervously when he made a sound, more out of fear for punishment, he was so humiliated when he became a little charged by the youngling's careful movements, Crosshairs couldn't imagine if any other bot in his situation had ever set the mechling up for hurting his valve.

The seeker slowed down his pace for him to contain the charge, which is increasing his workload since Crosshairs's valve is lubricating itself, Crosshairs nearly crashed in humiliation and wished it over as soon as possible, when the little Con finally finished, he pulled his servo out from Crosshairs's entrance and wiped away the last thread of slime stuck on his folds. He was surprised how refined the sparkling has been in this though he seemed to have no idea what he was doing.

“Very nice, ye did a great job, ‘s comfy n’ clean. Here, ye earned a reward, ma subspace on ma left, Energon bars fer ye.” He hated himself for saying this, it was condescending if he were in the seeker's place but hopefully he won't take it that way, he just want to make the sparkling’s day a little easier.

Again, the sparkling’s optics glistened with joy. “Really? Thank you, sir!” He clumsily fumbled through the subspace, there were three bars, he took one and hastily stuffed it into his his intake, warily looked around before his earnest red optics turned to meet Crosshair’s blue ones. “Thank you! It’s fantastic!”

The sparkling left with his filth in the bucket before the guard came in.

“Nice little chat, huh?” His smug cloying. “That’s _all_ Decepticons is good for!”


	2. Crosshairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some time after being on earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hardcore Murder Alert

A sparkling was lead into a chamber with four fully updated Autobots, they instantly began to snicker at the Decepticon insignia all over the sparkling’s helm.  
“Umm, the insignias line up in a way....so earthly, it somehow reminds me of that kind of organic designated leopard, I read through the reports brought back by Team Prime, not the worst thing to do when bored.” One scoffed.

  
The sparkling was baffled, losing every single clue of what they are saying when he found himself in the focus of four pairs of flaring blue optics. There’s something that he couldn’t fully read from the stare that made him nervous, his field stroked by four wanting ones, he rearranged his small pedes uncomfortably and pucked both servos behind, underneath his wide shoulder wings, the posture obviously gave more diaplay to his frame, _as he was taught._

  
“Look at those wings, such a lovely little seeker. He’s gonna be pit of a drone when he get his update!” A Bot commented, gaze scouring the small frame in front of him before he asked, mock-kind-heartedly. “Sweetie, what are you doing here?”

  
The sparkling was thrown clueless by this question, _he's never thought about that, n_ _ever tried to understand the Autobots' intentions_ ,but he knew better than not to to answer it. “Let's play games?” He attempted as his red optics, filled with confused ingenuousness and anticipation, rose from his pedes to meet with the four pairs of hungry, blue ones.

  
“Exactly! Such a bright little drone.” One of the impatient Bots thundered, startling the young seeker before the Bot bent forward to lift him from the ground and sat back with him on his lap. Digits slowly mapping out the delicate wirings of his plates and protoform, palm caressing the little helm that's merely the same size with it. “Now open your intake, I'd like to check you up, just like a medic.”

  
He did as he was told and a digit slid in smoothly, with his helm held in place, he peeped to his side, just to see panels beneath the other Bots' abdomens slid open, long and hard shafts bobbing from the port beneath them, _he's curious about his lack of this feature_ he looked back to the Bot who's fingering him, still confused.  
Everything went exceedingly complicated when another digit poked at his waste port, and tried to enter with a brutal force. He squirmed and frowned as his caliper uncontrollably fighting to keep the digit out of him “This game is so strange” his voice muffled by the finger that's still in his intake.

  
The field surrounding him instantly became aroused and he took it as that the comment might carried some gravity since the digit in his intake was withdrawn, but he didn’t get the due attention since the Bot turned to the other three. “The lip plates are tender and plush, it’s feeling fantastic around my digit, but I think he’s still too small for spikes. The port was definitely reflexive, but again, it’ll be fatal if we use spikes, we're gonna shell out for the reimbursement if we mess up, we know we are not so liquidated these days.”

  
“C’mon! You recommended this place for us and this drone was pit of a deal already, and it’s difficult as slag to get a newbie like this these days, and you wanna bail out like that?” Another Bot demanded, obviously on too much High Grade and overenergized. “Watch this out, the little whore is better than that!” He forcibly grabbed the wings of the small Decepticon and yanked him onto his thighs, the sparkling whined at the force exerted on his sensitive wings as a large servo pressed the helm on the spike head brutally, the Bot lined up his spike, with a few thrust, he overloaded, shooting his large load into the intake. "Swallow, you'll need that for your update." He slapped at the little helm.

  
The sparkling was first suffocated by the movement before he was choked by the gooey fluid, some of that glop came out from his facial ventilator. His optics filled with unfathomable terror and confusion, he tried to withdraw but was stalled by the servo behind his helm, in dire need of air, he bit as hard as he could, on whatever was in his intake.

  
“AAAAAAAAAAAAH! The slagging glitch of the pit!” The seeker was smacked on the ground with the sloppy mess on his faceplate, gagging helplessly. The Bot checked his spike, several shallow dents marring the head. “You’re _so_ gonna offline, RIGHT NOW you little whore!” He snatched the sparkling by the neck lift him high, the youngling began thrashing when the Energon supply to his processors was cut out. “Hey, hold there, mech, you shouldn’t......” the mech who fingered him in the beginning tried to help.

“ Shut up, YOU! The bastart bit me, leaving me abstinent for days!” He glared at the poor seeker squirming, small digits desperately tried to pry open the large and strong ones blocking his energy supply. “Huh, Decepticon, pathetic, deceptive from the beginning, what a waste of metal! Look at what you’ve earned for your owner, merely a petty 550 credits. You think you can gat away with biting me with your neglegible price?”

He looked at his flabbergasted partners. “Look, today, I feel generous, Every.Single.Credit.Is.On.Me.Watch.This.Out!”

He raises his other servo and latched the talons onto the bare fuel lines on the sparkling's neck, "Sorry,sir,please, I want to li....",the seeker pleaded feebly but it was too late, with one tug, the Bot ripped all the pipelines and wires out, Energon splashed everywhere.

The seeker's systems immediately began to shut down as the whirling sound of fans faded, after several futile struggles, the tiny frame went motionless before all components turned gray, everything save for the red Decepticon stencils all over the helm.

  
“No, NO! Don’t do this, _PLEASE! OOOH!_ ** _God DAMN IT!_** ” Crosshairs’s voice began to sob. “ _WHY? WHY do ya DO this?! WHAT did he DO WRONG?!_ What did...” he shot up from the berth wailing and found everyone in the hanger already waken by his humanly curses, stare riveted on him.

When he found Ironhide right next to him, stroking his back struts soothingly, he broke.

  
“It’s so ‘ard! Everyone is suffering! Primus!” He rested his helm in the crook of Ironhide’s neck and began lamenting, in front of everyone, like a sparkling.

  
“Whoa, whoa, hey, honey. You’re _safe_ here, no more suffering, we are all good! It was just a dream.” Ironhide’s placatory voice deep and warm.

  
“NO!” He snapped, “There _are_ so many more out there! They NEED us, RIGHT NOW!” He calmed himself a bit. “Sentinel’s already known our espionage, they are all gonna die soon, EVEN SPARKLINGS!” He broke again, spark agonizing at the reference of the last two words.

  
“We knew, we knew......” was all Ironhide could answer. He put Crosshairs into a firm embrace, servos caressing his still injured back. “Everything’s gonna be OK, eventually.”


	3. Wheeljack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally some PHEW~y stuff!

He’s never thought about owning a slave, he’s always questioned about its legitimacy, on the other servo, his didn’t need much attendance at home anyway. He’s an inventor, thought sometimes his creations were not reliable, his flair inevitably made him a top engineer, which was in dire need for the reconstruction work after the horrid war, he was quickly assigned one of the Chief Officers of the Iacon Reconstruction Team and went around the planet almost every day to study the damage of each city, take measurements and samples, he takes part in all kinds of seminars and his schedule was mostly jammed up, being on business for weeks, the only upside was his job was quite lucrative, almost 5,000 credits each week was really _something_ at the time, he loved to take hot oil bath with some plant essences from earth, as long as he had more than 10 minutes to rest. His Team Prime his been running a clandestine business ever since the pound was established and he couldn’t really care, he tried to talk to Optimus Prime but was told that they his absence was much appreciated and almost everybot on this planet needed him. Or so he thought, attending the countless press interview has already made his processor flooded. Everything has changed after he fainted in the middle of work and was sent to Medic’s Department of Iacon, his verdict indicated the second spark in his chamber, he was in labor, he’s never thought about having sparkling, let alone building a frame in advance so he had to choose a pre-designed frame for sparklings offered by the Department, their shapes were not even remotely acceptable to him but he had to make do for now. Giving a name was another big task, he couldn’t really think much about it, so I-Beam will do, the docs all snickered at his decision but that was what he see strewn around everyday, nothing could fit better for his sparkling. I-Beam passed the prelim and was sent to Iacon Academy under-graded level one. Everything went smoothly except Iacon Academy has ceased providing student accommodation ever since the war begun in case for air raid from rebellions and terrorist Bots, and replacing the war-time curriculum wasn’t really helping. He broke contract with several cooperators and rushes home every evening in his fatigue alt-mode to take care of his sparkling only to find his drafts smeared with paint or Energon spilled all over the floor, terrifying him to the pit. His fury meant nothing when I-Beam gave him a firm hug, every day, at the moment he enters his house. He had to work until whatever mess created was sorted out, bathe I-Beam, fuel him well and play online games on data pads with him to keep him otherwise occupied than messing around with the house. After I-Beam was in recharge, he still had to way past recharge time to calculate and estimate the datas he’ve collected during the day. He decided that he’s had enough after two weeks, he planned to buy a drone but they were too inadequately programmed, which would be never enough to keep his sparkling occupied. He needed a sentient babysitter, but almost all professional babysitters disappeared as soon as the Decepticon slaves arrived, advertisements and posters put up all around the city, selling them as if they are properties, after battling with much reluctance, he followed an online advertising and found The Pound, after another tedious day on work, he drove there to have a look.  
He transformed outside the gate, _Middle Iacon Pound_ it read, a guard at the front counter recognized him and greeted him with that kind of cloying curtesy.  
“What an honor, sir, how can I help you?”  
“I’m looking into purchasing a slave.”  
“We’ve got _the very thing._ ”


	4. Wheeljack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **The seeker was bound to be thrown to the pound! >:O**   
>  _Luckly we got our hero!_

The guard passed him to another one inside and stayed at the counter, the second guard guided him through the dim hall , the stench violating his olfactory sensor, making him want to purge, he’s never thought about this place but he could tell immediately that there’s something wrong, he saw Decepticons in the small cells, frames seriously dented, lying limply on the damp floor, not even responding to the pedesteps when he walks by, dim optics at the verge of extinguishing, panels all open, bare arrays sloppy with all kinds of fluids dribbling.

The guard turned around at the end of the hall, he produced a remote from his subspace, “If you’re up to some good servants, the ones on the left are completely broken, 100% obedient, especially the two in cell seven and cell nine, they have decently sized frames for your purpose” He briefly configured the remote and pressed the start button, the two mecha immediately came to life as the collars on their neck began to tase them.  


“ **AAH** , Master, _please!_ ”  


“Master, **AAH, no more** , _please!_ ”

The wails, out of sheer agony, went in tandem. The reek of burnt circuitry began to imbue the air.The guard released his digit and the two went flaccid and motionless again.  


The guard smirked, “See, quite some responsive drones, you just need to feed them some low grade and they will serve you well, they are even better than servants, workers like us should know some techniques for well-functioning, why not have some fun? What’s more......” He obscenely stroked his interface panel and off-lined his optics in enjoyment.  


Wheeljack rolled his optics at him absentmindedly and looked around, he spotted a small pede in cell 20, the only occupied cell behind him on his right. The main-frame was blocked by cell partition from his angle of view so he walked towards the cell, he was stunned by the scene, a sparkling, not so different from his save for the much better-looking seeker frame-design, _he’s been admiring the Decepticons’ knack of designing seekers for a long time._ Haphazardly sprayed Decepticon insignias smudged the helm, condition no better than the others, optics off-lined, it was hard to tell if he was still active.  


He poked a digit at the guard, interrupting his enthusiastic speech. “Um, sir, I think this one is...”  


“A sparkling, a Decepticon sparkling.” The guard finish the sentence matter-of-factly. “This one is peculiar,” he started fiddling with the remote again before Wheeljack stopped him.  


“How much is him?” He asked tentatively but inside his processor, he has made up his mind, deleting the line of code trying to estimate the amount of damage on the small frame before another line of codes concerning his guardians started to bother him again.  


“Well, this one was just ordered by a brothel, somebot will pick him up later.”  


“Brothel? What do you mean brothel?” His optics widened.  


“Um, you know, it was a pretty price offered.....”  


Wheeljack slammed a servo at the wall and bellowed. “ **What.Do.You.Mean.Brothel?** ” The sparkling didn’t move, but his optics flickered online briefly, probably startled by the sound. _Wheeljack was so relieved._  


The guard looked extremely embarrassed, “Yeah, just literal, brothel, they offered us two thousand credits.”  


“I’ll have him, here.” He reached for his subspace and pulled out a check and a pen. He knelt on a knee and spread the sheet on his thigh armor. _Iacon Re-Constructicon Team Chief Officer Wheeljack. 10,000.00 credits, to Middle Iacon Pound._ He signed neatly. The guard watched flabbergasted, “You’re the one on TV!? Sorry I didn’t watch it quite often, It’s such an ho...”  


“ _Shut up!_ Get him out, _**NOW!**_ ”Wheeljack demanded.  


“Sir, that’s......”  


“ **NOW WHAT?** ” He glared at the guard, ice cold blue optics freezing every single word to come from the dirty intake.  


Of course the guard knew better than to say more, he took the signed check from him and pulled out a chain of keys. The guard opened up for him before he entered the cell immediately.  


The sparkling started to struggle feebly at his his touch, red optics flicked online again.  


“Hey, hey, there, you’re safe! I’ll take you home!” He crooned soothingly. The little seeker stopped squirming hearing the reassurance, more out of exhaust, optics off-lined again.  


After cutting the collar off and taking him out after some paperwork, Wheeljack transformed outside The Pound, with the sparkling on his back seat, he drove home at city speed limit.


	5. Wheeljack

His day at job was a tedious one, the unpleasant field trip to the pound added to his late for home, he was ready about the mess he will be faced with before his detour but he had lost the courage, now that he had two sparkling’s to take care of.

With the creak of the front door of his house, as always, a firm hug around the waist dispersed all worries. The youngling has been waiting for him at the door, this might as well means that the sparkling has damaged something serious, which was what he learned when he burnt his aft by a malfunctioning fusion cannon hidden beneath the couch cushion and decided that the sparkling has learned to make the craps he made increasingly harder to find. This time, he caresses I-Beam’s helm in content anyway. 

I-Beam’s reaction upon seeing the seeker was in his expectation, he gave his blue optics of his child a firm look.

“What is he, dad?” Wheeljack was pleased to hear the he human word he taught him but irritated by the ‘what’. “Is that a Decepticon, one of the bad guys everyone talk about?” Hatred rose in Beam’s blue gaze.

Wheeljack’s Spark sank, this is not going to be easy for the family, the burdens for two sparklings suddenly came back to his processor, but he would never regret his choice, not until his spark is extinguished. What he really had to deal with now was the already present hostility of I-Beam towards the seeker. “Well, let’s talk about this in our berthroom.” He wore a grim countenance before he stood upright and walked to the berthroom, his child followed him dubiously.

Upon entering the room, he gently laid the seeker on their berth before ordered his child to stay put. He went to the refueling room and grabbed a cube of med-grade Energon from the cooler and heated it until the content inside began to glow brightly. He sanitized a thermometer and put the sensor end to the liquid, he meticulously monitored the heat until it’s at correct temperature. He returned to the berth room with the cube he cooked before he close the door behind them, the little Decepticon didn’t move at all during his rather long absence.

He grabbed a chair and sat down across from l-Beam and ordered. “Now help him sit up, slowly and gently.” He looked determinedly into I-Beam’s optics. 

I-Beam pouted at the sheer change of dad’s attitude, obvious loathing of the dirty frame and the empty optics. He did what he was told anyway. The young Decepticon was completely unaware of the process, helm tilted to one side when his upper frame was held upright.

He felt desperate for the slow action of his sparkling, every second mattered for the seeker now, but this was the best way for Beam to learn the lesson. He rested a servo on I-Beam’s to help him from the back, he put the cube brim at the seeker’s intake, tilted the cube until the surface of the glowing liquid reached reached that brim. 

The sparkling was wakened by the odor of warm solvent and those red optics flickered online dimly, his intake shuddered weakly at the dire need but was not even able to take a sip, Wheeljack suppressed the urge to sob and curse at the sparkbreaking situation and continued to tilt the cube until some of the Energon entered the the intake. Most of it leaked out from the side of the small intake, and dropped on the berth but he could tell from the amount that something was indeed swallowed. In a matter of seconds, those red optics shone brighter with a steadier glaze, the buzzing of systems kicked on with comforting purring. This lead to a positive feedback since the seeker was finally able to swallow more and more before those optics worked on full power.

The little jet blinked his optic lid when he saw the two pairs of blue optics staring at him and immediately began to cringe, trying to get away from the berth. With a few static sound, his vocalizer began to work, the voice reminded Wheeljack of a human child, just like I-Beam’s. “Please, master, _no games today,_ **Please.** ” Lubricant began to seep from the side of the large orbs of red optics satuated with nothing but terror.

Wheeljack was confused at first of the rather strange plea before he began grinding his dentas at the fury of realization, only the terrify the sparkling even more. The seeker crossed his arms in defense and began to sob. “ _Please, master, really, no more games, **please don’t kill me! PLEASE!**_ ” The sparkling finally lost control and started to cry, servos wiping at the lubricant streaming down the face plate.

I-Beam was completely clueless of the situation while Wheeljack deleted the codes of fury and put the weeping seeker into a firm hug, “Listen, we will _never_ kill you, Instead, I will get whatever you want, I want you to be good, _I swear to Primus._ ”

The youngling in his embrace finally gathered some semblance on hearing the pledge to the saint he almost lost faith in and decided to believe in Primus for one last time.

He released the embrace and told him softly. “Now if you _don’t_ feel like recharging, I want you to go to the wash racks with him, and let him wash you out.” He pointed to I-Beam, who pouted again.

Some memory struck the seeker again but he decided to push it back this time. Because the master just sweared.

“H-Hello, master.” He said to I-Beam tentatively.

Before I-Beam could respond, Wheeljack interrupted the conversation. “No, call him I-Beam, or just Beam, brother is also Ok.”

“Ok, master.” The jet replied.

“No, call me Wheeljack, or Jack, or dad, whichever you like.”

“Dad......” he was confused by so many options so he chose the one making him curious.

“Really nice of you, sweetie, now go with him. Are you sure you don’t want to recharge?” 

The seeker shook his helm. A little part of Wheeljack began to worry about the excess energy to mess with the house the seeker may potentially have.

“Ok, now get off the berth and go with Beam.” Wheeljack crooned. “What are you looking at? Beam, help him!” His voice turned a little more demanding when he saw Beam still pouting. “You have a friend now, or a brother, you have to take care of each other, you can play games together after you both wash up, IF your friend don’t want to recharge afterwards, understand?”

“But he is a Decepti......” Beam tried to protest.

“No, that name is for other bots, you are both sparklings, the only differences are your optics colors and frame design.” Wheeljack explained patiently.

“Ok, brother.” Beam finally smiled to the seeker. “Let’s go to the wash racks, shall we?”He reached out his servo for good measure.

“Ok.” The jet nodded and grabbed the helping hand to get off from the berth. His legs wobbled when his pedes touched the ground and the weight was applied on them but he halted the tremor after a few try.

They walked towards the wash racks slowly, the seeker’s servo in Beam’s, Wheeljack followed directly behind in case the seeker fall over.

Finally in the washracks, he adjusted until the solvent is warm before he handed the nozzle to Beam. “Clean all the filth, on the platings or the protoform, like what I did to you a few days ago, mind the shoulder wings and the areas below them, they hurt easier than your door wings, be careful when rubbing at those platings. And always remember that you cannot play with each other by those wings, you understand?”

They both nodded. The seeker seemed flabbergasted since the aforementioned feature always led to torture instead of protection.

Beam’s small digits clumsily go through the plates and the circuitry. Helm, neck cables, chest plates, loin plates, the panels, the bare linings underneath, and more circuits and plates on the arms and legs. The seeker adjusted his position obediently during the process. Finally when Beam finished with the pedes before he went to the seeker’s back. As soon as the digits touched the one of the dents on the wings, the still seeker grimaced.

“Be more careful with your servos, do the best as you can, always remember.” Wheeljack encouraged.

With the grime and aged Energon whashed away with the warm solvent, two Decepticon insignias became a distinct feature on both of the vast shoulder wings. Wheeljack can feel in Beam's field that he's been trying to ignore them. The areas under the wings were the easiest since most damage was shielded by the wings. Finally Wheeljack pulled a spray can of solvent with plant essence from his subspace and donned the seeker with that aroma. The seeker's optics widened at the exotic scent

After the bath, Wheeljack treated the dents with some nanite gels and instructed Beam to do the same. They also employed a stronger type of solvent to get rid of the remaining sprayed insignias on the helm. The two younglings seemed groggy after the long process so the three went to the berth, Wheeljack summoned the two on his sides and began to tell the tales of Orion Pax and how he became the great leader of all Cybertronians. The two fell into deep recharge soon, Wheeljack was pleased to see the seeker’s optic lids closed properly, venting sound and steady.

He could not fall into recharge, though, his processors are running fast. He didn’t finish his work but he had decided to push off the schedule tomorrow. The seeker’s name and identity, his true guardians, either fugitives hiding from the enforcers or already grounded in a squalid place like The Pound, or worse, _deactivated._ How the seeker himself ended up in such a place. Everything about the seeker's future was nagging his processor, a Decepticon, he will never be accepted by the society, not when the abhorrence between the two factions is still alive, and he felt so lucky _and horrified_ to have found that advertisement befor it was too late. He was disappointed be the broken society he's been working for for so long, the very spirit all Cybertronians have been looking for was still somehow absent, _even after the war._ There must be something much more powerfor than Optimus himself that can make the situation diverge from his very priciple so drastically, which made Wheeljack lost in despair.

He decided that the aformentioned problems was really beyond his capability, at least today, for now, he needed to focus on the new member of the family, he couldn't really take the seeker to a random Medic's place now that if it can possibly make things worse, he desperately wanted to go to Ratchet's but he was just warned not to contact his team yesterday by the enforcers, explaining that they are working for a classified project for the goverment, he did't quite buy it and now _everything_ seemed even more like a hoax. He had to figure everything out tomorrow, the seeker's systems apparently need much reconfiguring and programming. A lot needed to be learned, for both the sparklings, and it's not going to be easy.

 _Tomorrow will be a long day, recharge!_ Wheeljack forced his processors shut and finally fell into recharge.


	6. Ramjet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief flashback, but an important background story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hardcore murder alert again. :(  
> Just finished some retouch to give it more feel. 2/2/2020

His functioning has adopted a professional pattern, filled with toys in all his holes, fragged until he said ‘no’, whipped into stasis, rebooted and being washed inside out, filled with toys and fragged again......it had been going in a loop ever since Sentinel’s celebrations was mostly over and everything went back to ‘normal’. Sentinel owned a large mansion and had as large a group of friends, mechs like him always owned quite a number of slaves to satisfy their friends but not Sentinel, he had some kind of ‘loyalty’ to his present slave until whom was discarded or deactivated. Ramjet studied his statistics from each of the fragging loop, on average, if the mechs fragging him weren’t the bucket-type, he could take 40 spikes in the port and 33 spikes in his intake until all the tanks were filled to the brims, he would have to say “Please, no more, master.” with the exact degree of defiance to irritate whoever was fragging him and make the latter whip him into stasis lest the liquid sating him began spilling into his venting systems and consequently enter his inner helm to violate his other systems like processors and neural networks, which would definitely lead to his demise.

Being in stasis has been his escape from reality for as long as he could remember being in Sentinel's place, there was no recharge time for him at all, the friends just came in a group after another, so his stasis time could also give him some rest, the only drawback was that there’s still a large possibility to deactivate during his stasis time, but what little hope was better than nothing and he was lucky enough to carry on, _at least until someday._

He didn’t intend to break the loop until there’s a foreseeable future, all he wanted to do was keep functioning, it was literally impossible for him to stay on this planet as a being with the least of dignity even if he could live through this, but what really kept him moving on was the thought that he had got something he wished to do, somebot he wished to see and talk with even for a second, _provided he could survive this_. _If he could witnessed the moment himself, see his mate again, he would dissapear from this universe without any regret._

He was being washed inside out after his brief meditation on coming out of his stasis, a rather relaxing module in the loop, he just needed to keep running codes that rationalize his present functioning to keep his processors occupied. The toy filling also went rather smoothly until......

Sentinel entered the room with a group of his friends, some of which he recognized immediately. He quickly began to adjust his calipers for their spikes sizes. _After all he had been through, such obedience would earn him the least pain and actual harm._

“Oh, such a needy little whore, doing that for us automatically!” Sentinel broke into laughter when he saw Ramjet's throbbing valve with a thick toy stuffed in it. Ramjet felt literal aroused at the comment, _his sense of dignity would never help, so he had abandoned it to the pit for good._

“I’m up to toy shows today, but I don’t know if it’s ok.....” one of the friends asked tentatively and rocked the toy gently with his servo, Ramjet immediately moaned in pleasure.

“Toys? Of course, we whoud always begin with toys,” Ramjet felt relieved, _more toys meant the whips will come later._ “I’ve got some newly designed models for slaves.” He pulled out a long purple shaft from his subspace, a mimicry of Optimus’s saber.The design did not differ much from those previous sabers save for the length and texture, almost as long as the seeker’s upper body, and looked like it was made of quartz instead of standard soft sillicon rubber. It's tip was a sharp metal probe connected to the hilt by a cable going through the transparent length. Ramjet’s Spark sank, this is _so_ not going to be good.

“The tip is for the ceiling node, it is charged if I push this button on the hilt, giving us a better looking overload.” Sentinel explained before all the Autobots began to nod obscenely with smirks.

“Ok, let’s give it a try.” The original toy was tugged and his valve suddenly clenched onto nothing before a cold blade forced its way into his half-prepared entry and the tip was charged as soon as it reached his ceiling, with a painful gasp, Ramjet overloaded immediately.

“This is _so_ impressive, you don’t even need to rock!” Another charge rose and he overloaded again, his processors began to send out warnings about his plummaging energy level caused by such succesive overloads, his hydropower began to fail as his limbs was pulsating in exertion to support his body weight.

The friends didn't seem tired though, they went in turns to push the botton and laugh at Ramjet's increasingly weakened groan when he overloaded, the first round wasn't even over when he was totally exhausted, he collapsed to the ground limply without himself having a say.

“Get up!” Sentinel demanded, his pede kicked the bottom of the hilt, the sip poked at Ramjet’s sensitive ceiling but he was too tired to get up even after he battled his systems for more energy supply, his limbs just wouldn't work at his discretion. He couldn’t finish this cycle this time, the toy was such an overkill.

“Master, no more, _**please!**_ ” He wished to end the cycle now, and braced himself with whatever power he still had over his frame for the sizzling Energon whips that was about to come out from Sentinel's subspace.

“I told you to _Get.Up_ ” Sentinel kicked the bottom brutally and the whole length entered Ramjet.

He felt a tearing pain when the blade went through the ceiling and the tip kept moving forward, penetrating all the wires and pipelines in its way until it went through his spark chamber and came out from the back of his neck. He managed not to shriek this time though it was more painful than anything in his functioning, _maybe he was too tired to do so,_ he didn't understand but all his memory files was extracted and replayed in his processors at an incredible rate, temporarily occupying his optical feed, long passed and well missed scenes about his comerades, his trine mates and the very one that was taken away from him, joys and pains they shared on the battlefield through the bond felt as alive as when it just happened, their gags and laughs on Megatron's mock-enthusiastic speeches on every victory they made and Autobots' silly moments when they escape, the mutual care and support among inmates when all hope seemed lost in the pound......all those happy and meaningful moments were highlighted in vivid colors and he suddenly rediscovered so much about his functioning that he didn't even knew before, that his life used to be full of felicity, that he used to be a soldier with achivements for his cause. _He smiled in content, his functioning worthed his spark._

It was only seconds of flashback but Ramjet felt like he re-lived his functioning, he last thing he saw when his flashback finally ended and his optical feed returned to reality, was the flabbergasted look of the friends and the furious Sentinel. Then warm white light filled his vision and all the pains were gone. He felt like he was sinking to somewhere deep into the floor and was linked to everything on the planet, including those he missed so much, and was _so_ relieved to find them still functioning. He began to perceive facts about all the sufferings and happiness of every single Cybertronians without his knowing, he felt peaceful and emotionless, _since all the sufferings were compensated by happiness and vise versa,_ everything will finally go to equilibrium. He witnessed the great prophecy of the primes, where all sentient beings enjoyed the same, inalienable rights of freedom. He just had one last question, though, _where was he?_

But he didn’t feel confused, because he had perceived the fact without his knowing.

_Well of All Sparks_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is sad. T-T  
> But the planet will be fixed!


	7. Wheeljack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hardcore adoption of an atrocious execution.  
> I was so wicked about this retouch......2/2/2020

Wheeljack rose with four arms clutching his midsection, it was still dark outside when he onlined his optics, thw two sparklings embracing him still in deep recharge, it would be more than a Groon until solar-rise, he gently rearranged his position to get out the embrace and not waking the two.

The berth sheet was still a mess with the Energon spilled last night and the intake lubricant of the two sparklings, the raminification of last night's meditation came to struck him again. He grabbed a small cube of ice cold High Grade from the refueling room and went to his working desk, he checked the cushions before he plopped down onto the couch comfortably and took a sip, he has pushed off the schedule today and was ready to do the modifications of the seeker's programmings, he logged into the Cybertron planetary network to look for any newest updates for the systems of sparklings at their age, the best ones always charge after trial but it was never his problem, he was disheartened when he found any and all informations about systems compatible to Decepticon processors either deleted or blocked, it meant that he had to work on his own for most of the programming parts. Not being in the right mood to resume his work, he logged onto Pound's website again and was led to several auction and video websites following the useful links given below , he scrolled down the main page browsing contents and saw the atrocities he'd never imagined in his functioning.

He found Decepticons, introduced with pictures of every inch of their exposed bodies and relative filmmed demonstration of their functions and damages as if they were properties, sold at petty prices. He saw too many videos where Decepticon slaves was tortured or killed as soon as they were bought off from auctions, their desperate wails when they got disintergrated alive was full of nothing but true anguish of suffering, Autobots, his supposed comerades, stood on the sides rubbing their spikes. One of the most morbid he saw during his surfing was a video named Servos-on Tutorial: How to Offline a Decepticon, Praxian Bellyfunnel. A poor victim was nailed trough his limbs on a cross with pins, permanent armor plates were torn off in a refined sequential pattern from his protoform until the delicate pipes and wires were all exposed. After a short break for the Con to wail in tears and struggle, wires and pipelines on the naked protoform were ripped out one after another, Energon splashed onto the masturbating Autobots on the sides. A medic-like Autobot with a dagger sliced the sizzling Energon blade across the Con's abdominal wirings without much hesitance or resistance, _like the Con was a cadaver from a morgue instead of a being with feelings,_ the Con grinded his denta to quell his unwanted scream out of extreme pain and humilliation to be exposed and dissected like this and recorded, thrashing against the long pins hammered inside his frame, just to futher split up the wounds inflicted on him, the medic nosed the searing tip inside the new-cut opening on the Con's abdomen and broke a tank wall after a few pokes, some half-digested Energon leaked out from the wide opening and the Con's finally began to roar in terror. After his 'operation',the 'medic' handed his dagger to the executioner and left.

> " _Master, **AAAAAAAH,** Offline me, please, it hurts! **AAAAAAAAH,** push that dagger into my spark chamber, please! **AAAAAAAAAH**_ " The Decepticon begged as if it was his only desire of his functioning. The Energon and lubricant puddling into a container at the pole basis was continuously adding up.
> 
> "Oh, don't be impatient, there isn't much metal left on you before you offline _completely_ , it's you who didn't think twice befor you joined those bastards, so you better _enjoy_ this! Now, hold the dagger for me, I gotta work on your back."The dagger was stabbed next to the spark chamber, barely missed it when entering and remained there, then a door wing was slowly plucked with a large tract of wires at the base still attached to it, scintillating static and sprikling Energon was accompanied by the scream that could damage his audials.
> 
> "Now, drink this!" Said container at the pole base, full of his liquids, was pushed to his intake, the Con repulsed before the dagger hilt was twitched, casuing him to gasp in pain, he obeyed the command with what capability his system still support, but seconds after he swallowed the liquid, it slowly leaked out of his penetrated fuel tank from the wide opening cut across his abdomen.
> 
> "Mech, it's _hot as pit_! He's really like a funnel!" One mech at the side overloaded, shooting his transfluid on the Con. "You better slow down a little bit, I want another shot when he still look like a Con."
> 
> "You're on it!" The operater replied and overviewed his toy again."Then let's continue somewhere not so vital, which sinful parts whoud you want me to get off from your frame, servos or pedes?" He asked the Con as if he was giving his toy a chance to expiate. The butcher configured the dagger and its oroginal blade was replaced by axe head.
> 
> The con grimaced as soon as he saw the new tool that's about to be used on his frame, not answering the question he was asked. " _Please, no! AAAAAAAH!_ " A pede was slashed off anyway, the Con's optics flashed in pain and he howled at the top of his ventral system.

_  
_   
  
  


He suddenly realized that he played the video out loud before he muted it and sent its soundtrack to his audial simulator and checked if he disturbed his sparklings, Wheeljack was completely petrified by the contents and felt surprised and guilty that he was steadily aroused when watching these videos since he found his panels opened instinctively and his own spike began to pressurize.

With a resolute thought, he shut all the videos off and took another sip of his Energon to calm down. His spike retracted back to its sheath before he closed his panels. It felt humiliating to be aroused by such mania of barbarity and angst and to accept the humiliation in a euphoric way.

He was lost in his contamplation when a small digit touched his arm. He turned to see the two sparklings smiling at him and began to worry if they had watched the whole process of his arousal but decided to teach them about the function later if they did.

"Morning!" Wheeljack smiled back.

"Morning, dad." I-Beam replied eagerly while the seeker was a little confused about the new human word but followed anyway."Morning! Dad."

"Today, we don't go to the academy, I'll call your mentors later about it." I-Beam cheered exuberantly but the seeker was baffled by such reaction. "Dad......" the seeker murmured.

“What is it? Sweetspark?” Wheeljack smiled to the seeker encouragingly.

“I.....I” his pedes shifted nervously, optics not even dare to look into Wheejack’s. “But I want to attend Academy someday.” His voice was barely soundable and, optics looked up at the end of the request to check Wheeljack’s expression and got ready to wince. He hoped this would not lead to torture since his master/dad promised yesterday that he would get whatever he wanted and he had never heard such vow before. He believed his new master could help him even though he had no rights.

It was such a simple request, even sort of funny if he was an Autobot or from a neutral pair of guardians during the war. He did promise that he will give the seeker whatever he wanted and he didn’t intend to break it so easily, what the seeker needed the most now was someone he could trust. He chuckled and reassured the seeker, “Of course!” he agreed, though he hadn’t got a plan. He crouched in front of the two sparklings to keep optic contact with them.

“What’s your name then? You know, _Academy sparklings_ have names!” He continued going to where the conversation leads and kept thinking about all possible solutions.

“I was slave-452, my true name was erased from my files and my guardians are deactivated, I don't feel them.” He was so prompt to answer the question, he’d been asked this too many times to feel anything when he answered it one more time.

Wheeljack’s Spark sank, he didn’t mean him to reveal everything so quickly and calmly, especially when I-Beam was present, but that’s apparently how things worked for the seeker, cruelty was what kept his functioning consistent. The number could mean anything, which he didn’t dare to think much.

“Maybe they are too far away to maintain the link, and maybe they are not offline, I learned this in Academy.” I-Beam tried to help with the situation.

“They **ARE!** ” The seeker seemed angered by the reminding and yelled at I-Beam before he his optics lubricated, “I’m sorry, brother, it’s just......, they are gone, _I don’t feel them there at all, **they are both gone!**_ ” The seeker lost control again, just like what happened last night, he cried so hard as if there was no tomorrow, this time, he threw his arms around Wheeljack’s neck and buried his helm at the soft wires at Wheeljack shoulder, sobbing and weeping, one servo rested on a helm fin. The seeker hated crying alone, so he’d rather risk being punished this time.

For the first time in so long, Wheeljack felt such responsibility that was much greater than anything he possessed, he _really_ wanted to quit his job because his contributions hadn’t changed anything for those who were still suffering, he had enough deposit in banks for both sparklings. Bots like him at the top of this society rarely went to any derelict places where these slaves were, he _did_ , however, see the naked Skywarp, Ramjet and Starscream at Sentinel’s celebrations for everybot to watch and get entertainment from, that’s where he began to question the legitimacy of slavery, but he had never imagined what functioning would be like if one had to suffer all this for every single second only for the entertainment of others. He hated it when he realized how ignorant his work had made him.

A plan was forming in his processors, he could change this, at least for the seeker. He stroked down the wide wings of the sparkling repeatedly and confortingly until he calmed down, Wheeljack retracted the lubricant that’s forming at his optics. “How about we give you a new name?”

“Really? Thank you, dad.” The seeker’s red optics widened with anticipation.

“You’re welcome, sweetie! Beam, let’s work on this together.” He optic-gestured the sad litter grounder still watching their stances at a loss.

“I guess something to do with wings, his wings are pretty.” I-Beam states matter-of-factly.

The seeker seemed flattered by the compliment before Wheeljack gave him a reassuring look and continued prompting Beam. “Ummhmm?”

“Maybe Wingstripes since he had those purple stripes on them, or Bladewings since those edges look sharp.” I-Beam couldn’t get his attention off those wings.

“Which one would you choose?” Wheeljack asked the seeker.

The seeker looked as if he didn’t expect to have choices and was thrown into a dilemma.

“If you like neither, let us three work on this together.” Wheeljack tried to be patient though he didn’t like working on it either.

“I love the Bladewings, it sounds cool.” The seeker confirmed.

“Ok, then we will call you Bladewings from now on, and, what would you liked to be called for short?” Wheeljack further asked.

“Maybe......Blades.” The seeker seemed hesitant before his optics narrowed in determination.

“Ok, Blades, now I have to work on your programmings.” Wheeljack couldn't be too happy to move on to the next topic so fast. “Beam! You grab two small cubes of med-grade and heat it in the oven, and set the table. Blades, you can go help your brother if you want.” He began to look for the cables for lining after morning Energon.

“Yes, dad.” Blades went to the refueling room with his brother, before long, Wheeljack heard a cube shattered and the subsequent turmoil, he ran to the refueling room.

“Be careful Blades! Are you hurt?” Beam’s voice was caring, Wheeljack saw Bladewings lying in a puddle of Energon, apparently from the broken cube he was holding. Beam set the other cube he was holding on the table to help Blades up, when Blades tried to reached for the helping servo, his arm was trembling, then he saw Wheeljack.

“Sorry, dad, I didn’t mean to.” Blades’ voice sounded terrified.

“ _It's allright_ , Blades! Beam, help him to the table, I will heat another cube.” Wheeljack instructed.

Beam nodded and did as he was told and Wheeljack watched while he prepared the cube, Blades’s entire frame was wobbling due to lack of strength and exertion, there’s something wrong with his hydro pressure system and the electromegnatic fields of the ovens and coolers obviously exacerbated the malfunctioning of him. It's not possible for Blades to take care of himself like this, had to feed Blades the Energon.

He'd formed a plan during the process, the only crux being the optical chroming protocol.


	8. Wheeljack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little tired of Wheeljack, LOL, but time for a twist!

The seeker still couldn’t sit properly so Wheeljack cuddled him up and grabbed a larger chair to sit at the table. He put a straw into the just warmed Energon cube before he handed it the youngling. Blades gulped down the entire cube quickly.

“Thank you, dad!” His gratified voice unmistakable.

“You’re welcome! Now, I will do some modifications on you before you are eligible to apply for Academy.”He could sense that the seeker's small field was filled with anticipation on hearing their mission.

After breakfast, he laid the seeker in his cuddle on the berth and plugged one end of the wire into Blades’ data port and the other end to his own.

“Beam, this will be a long process, do whatever you like while waiting for us. But don’t touch my weapons or equipments.” He murmured the last part to Beam mock-threateningly and went back to work before I-Beam was able to respond. He sighed when he sensed in Beam’s field that he nodded reluctantly.

He easily slipped into Blades’s immature firewall and began scanning the whole system. As what he guessed, all access to interfacing protocol were denied, he cracked into it and found the spark chamber was locked shut while interface panels were locked open. Other things like compromised power output and inaccessible T-Cog still needed some tackling, nothing should be too complicated until he failed to find the Optical Chroming Protocol even after two rounds of scanning.

_Just a little programming, it doesn’t hurt anything, Blades will still be Blades! He was about to work but halted by one thought._

_Reprogramming sparklings, especially concerning converting a ‘property’ into an ‘individual’, it’s like abusing the power of the Allspark and could be nothing better than a felony, even sacrilege! ___

_Those enforcers did the tweaking first, all I’m going to do was about ‘correction’ rather than ‘reprogramming’!_

_All right, even if you succeed, how would you hide your conspiracy, let along send him to Academy! The frame design along was salient enough even if you replace all insignias with Autobot ones! What if they find out, he’s still a war-time Decepticon system in his processor? What should your subterfuge be then? What if you get caught? How would you hire attorneys and do the tap dance until the cops and officials are merciful enough to let you slip? Will you even bail Blades out then? What if he’s confiscated and go straight to deactivating even before you know? **You.Will.Hurt.Blades!**_

__Just when he was almost defeated by his alter ego, Blades sensed his hesitance. “::How can I be enrolled, dad?::” Wheeljack received the message at his data port before he saw Blades blinked his red optics in curiosity._ _

___He promised him, he’s the last Bot on this who Blades could trust, he won’t let him down again, ever!_ _ _

__“::I will tell you later, now try not to run anything in your processors, it might be uncomfortable when I do the modifications.::” He gave the youngling a reassuring look before Blades nodded._ _

__He was not a medic, and it felt tedious to do such operations without his bound mate, but he finally located and validated all denied protocols before it was getting dark outside, he saw Blades’s panels closed for the first time they came here, flaccid hydropower pipes replenished to reinforce the frame, he continued searching for his OCP until he finally found an suspicious package. It was encrypted offhandedly and the only available component was a catalog for its functions, he suppressed the urge to crack the package directly and skimmed through the catalog and found everything he needed: optical chroming, venting system, Energon circulation, and many functions concerning frame movements, even all the memory files. At the end, there was a note._ _

_Encryption approved by Middle Iacon Bureau of Justice, any attempt to tamper with the configurations or to decrypt will erase the functions and datas listed above._ **Those glitches!** Wheeljack cursed in his processor and panicked that he could've ignored all this. 

__This case was indeed in Wheeljack’s expectation though, there would be two plans for this. The first was to replace the entire package using an Autobot package purchased online, taking the risk that it might not be compatible to his systems and Blades is deactivated. If he succeeded, everything about Blade’s past will be gone, even the name would have to be made again, he would be a newly activated sparkling all over again._ _

Wheeljack rejected this plan immediately so he inescapably moved on to the second one, this one however, would be extremely difficult for the sparkling, he would always had to run the new inserted blue OCP separately from his other vitals, it would definitely need some practice and if he gets distracted somehow, his optics would become red again. And if he’s unfortunate enough to be spotted by other Autobots, everything’s over. But Wheeljack has transferred his own blue optical files to Blades. _It wouldn’t hurt to try._

__He plucked the wire and smiled to Blades, “All done! Sweetie! Now there’s still a task for you, students don’t use red optical colors, they tend to use blue or green ones, you will make more friends if you always use these colors.” Wheeljack tried to explain this in the least harmful way._ _

__Blades nodded with joyous anticipation._ _

__“Now you should find another program about your optic color just next to your vital package, I want you to run it simultaneously with your vitals, at the same time, try to ignore the original commands about your optics, remember, only work on the optics!” Wheeljack cupped both the small servos with his and looked attentively into those pair of large, red optics_ _

__Blades optics narrowed into two light dots, apparently fighting with the codes. His shoulders slumped before his red optics widened in defeat and murmured. “No, I can’t.”Lubricant began to seep from his optics' edges._ _

__“Concentrate your mind, imagine there’s _nothing _around us and you are safe. I believe you can do it.” Wheeljack encouraged._ _ __

__

__The seeker tried again, this time, his left optic turned pink before it turned white, finally a tint of blue appeared and the lightness turned down slowly. Finally it was the same blue as Wheeljack’s, his other optic was still red though. “Did I make it? Dad?”_ _

__

__“You did well, but your right optic is still red. Let’s practice in front of the mirror.” Wheeljack instructed Blades into the maintenance room before Beam barged in and was startled by Blade’s strange look. “Beam, don’t worry, you can be here to help your brother. Now Blades, look into your own optics in the mirror, and ignore _all_ distractions.” Wheeljack said patiently to enlighten Beam of their practice._ _

__

__Blades closed his optic lids and let out a long vent. After he reopened his optics, they were both pink, he looked determinedly into himself in the mirror until both of his optics were blue, exactly with same color as Wheeljack’s. The seeker cheered in rapture, bouncing on the floor._ _

__

__“You look _so_ good with blue optics!”Beam complemented._ _

__

__“Thank you, Beam!” Blades smirked with glee._ _

__

__“Hey, look, what’s that on your left servo?” Wheeljack interrupted the conversation, pointing at the seeker’s servo._ _

__

__The seeker’s checked his servo, optics returned red in a blink. He realized what just happened when he found nothing on his servo. He immediately reset his optics back to blue, it came immediately this time but defeat was still written all over his faceplate._ _

__

__Wheeljack felt terrible to have breached the merely established trust, but this was a lesson to be learnt. “Blades, I apologize for what just happened, I just want you to remember, no matter what happens around you, you can’t forget to cover your original optical color!”_ _

__

__The seeker nodded, blue optics filled with understanding and gratitude. Wheeljack was _so_ glad that Blades learned so fast, now that he could express his emotions with blue optics even without his noticing._ _

__

__Whatever processes that followed were rather relaxing, they learned how to scan alt-modes together and practiced to properly use all 3-D features lest they transform into something strange, this was such a funny step when the two just kept shifting into whimsical objects with a little similarity to what they scanned. Wheeljack can barely suppress his laughter when Blades was stuck again._ _

__

__He chose an average Cybertronian arial mode commonly adopted by Autobots and Neutrals, but in the first few tries, the seeker just couldn’t fold his wings correctly, again and again, the joints and platings would just accidentally latch into each other, the seeker would then be stuck immobilized in any awkward way possible before Wheeljack helped the poor thing out._ _

__

__For Beam, he chose an earth-like red and white ambulance, Beam wasn’t particular about alt-modes so Wheeljack chose the one which reminded him of his sparkmate the most for him._ _

__

Speaking of his sparkmate, he missed Ratchet so much, worried the same time when their communication was censored, but it was this _tiny little_ detail that made him truly bothered. When the enforcers came visiting his house, informing him of the classified operation, he could clearly feel Ratchet at the other end of his bound at the specific time, but about 2 Groons after the enforcer left, the bound attenuated in a matter of seconds. Ratchet went to somewhere far away using space bridge, a fact about which he was certain but confused, maybe it was just on of the commissions of the so called 'government operation', but what made everything so coincidental? He couldn’t remember any team action where specific members should be excluded. There was also something fishy about the enforcer, obviously not the efficient type of 'Bot and was incredibly talkative, he _so happened_ to carry a bottle of supreme High Grade with him and the two enjoyed themselves a lot, he then remembered that he nearly purged at being over-energized afterwards so he paused the uncomfortable flashback immediately. He just accepted the scraps the drunk enforcer told him and that was all, right? He felt _so_ very ashamed that he could never resist High Grade even when his team’s fate seemed to be at stake...... 

__

__He was lost in his contemplation and didn’t notice the two sparklings had successfully finished their transformations. “Dad! Look at us!” He was pulled back to reality by the cheer._ _

__

__A small jet parked on the game room floor, next to the familiar ambulance, his wings wide with sharp edges marked with white stripes, the main color theme was ocean blue from earth save for the golden cockpit canopy and the white bottom. The tip of cockpit was black. The air brakes were all erected in the sparkling’s eagerness, those silver engines near both sides of the tail shone bright. Wheeljack had to admit that this is such a beautiful jet, especially when going with some Decepticon features. He hated it when he remembered he still had to cover those Decepticon insignias on those wings and both sides of the vertical stabilizer at the tail, and replace them with Autobot ones. _It was not logical nor legal to put a Neutral sign even though that’s the safest way for Blades at school.__ _

__

__He demanded that Beam transform back to robot mode while Blades stay put, the two then worked meticulously on paint job coverage and stencils. The little jet parked there trustingly for them to work on. Everything about the jet felt like Autobot after the careful makeup, nothing conspicuous in general save for the details that everybot would normally ignore . A part of Wheeljack hated himself when he changed the seeker to impersonate something he feared the most._ _

__

__It was a long day, and it was getting dark outside. With all his taxing work thrown behind, it would be a peaceful night. “What about go for a ride?” Wheeljack proposed?_ _

__

__“Yay!” Beam cheered. Blades’s voice was muffled by the platings. “Can I race on the street while Blades fly in the sky?”_ _

__

“No, you can’t go outside in alt-modes now, like I said before, you might be smashed by other mechs in alt-modes on the streets. For Blades, it is never safe airborne on this planet.” Wheeljack could’ve never been careful enough about his sparklings, _especially when he had committed a feloly._ “How about I give you a ride?” 

__

__“ **R-Really?** Can we?” The jet looked so excited, he’d never dreamed of riding in another Bot, let along an Autobot._ _

__

__“Of course, sweetspark! Let's get out!” Wheeljack locked the door and led the two sparklings to the front yard and transformed into his Lancia Stratos racer mode, and popped open his front doors for the two, he could sense excitement and admiration in the seeker’s field when Beam instructed him into the driver’s seat, he got Beam’s meaning at once and asked the seeker. “Would you like to steer me?”_ _

__

__The seeker stared incredulously at the flickering Autobot insignia at the center of the steering wheel as his dad was talking. “Really? Dad, well, is it safe?”_ _

__

__“Oh, don’t worry, not when you’re in me!” Wheeljack reassured. “Left and right petals for break and accelerator respectively, turn the wheel on your front to control your direction.” He piloted himself onto the main road when he explained. “And fasten you seatbelts.”Wheeljack was proud of his unique feature once for the humans._ _

__

__Beam buckled on his side before he helped the confused Blades fasten up._ _

__

__Wheejack handed half of his dynamic control over to his steer and petals. Then he felt his right petal pushed with a roar of his engine and the three sped down the street._ _

__

__Unbeknownst to them, a small recorder magnetized to the roof of the maintenance room stopped working and fell into the waste disposer below, causing a disturbance and triggered the auto-flush, which brought the little device away._ _

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just reached 10,000 words! Woohoo!  
> *pop up a cube of energon and get drunk into stasis!*


	9. Bladewings

This was the best evening of his functioning, the windows were opened for the two, sending in gushes of breeze with fresh solvent vapor. Driving felt fantastic for him, he was rewarded some pad game time when he was at Sentinel’s place, but steering another sentient being was completely different experience. He could feel the petals evaluating his forceand the steering wheel perfectly predicted every turn he would take, dodging incoming obstacles even before he noticed, veering just before bumping into something and cause a disaster. The music played on the radio didn’t feel Cybertronian but added to the vibe all the same, he and Beam both screamed a lot during the ride, it was radical, but he felt secure, a feeling he’d never had ever since his sparkbonds were severed. 

The drove down the road out of their community and turned right, they entered Earth Dr., a bustling driveway across the Veteran District, then the kept driving down the street until they took an exit onto the flyover of Allspark Ave.. Not after two minutes of driving, they entered the very center of Iacon City,Blades was completely stunned by such spectacular view of downtown Iacon. He’d never been outdoors since his memory was erased let along see the city, all his transport happened during his recharge, he could still remember the fear he felt when he woke up in The Pound. He heard from other slaves' statement that the world outside was buried in rubbles just days ago, but clearly the city was restored quickly thanks to Wheeljack and his Reconstruction Team, Mechs in all kinds of alt-modes streamed down the wide driveways, skyscrapers of all fancy shapes gathered like forests on both sides of the street, aerial mechs piloting in aircraft modes lit up the night sky. 

But there was always something unpleasant that arrested his attention.

He saw slaves leashed by their masters walking on the sidewalks, optics on the ground and silently accepting all scoldings about their bare bodies. Some masters liked to electrify the collars every few steps, just to enjoy the wails of pain and snicker in smug. 

His dad apparently felt something in his field and drove faster past the scene. He paused the music and the three remained silent for a long time until Beam broke the grim situation.

“Well, where are we going dad?” He sounded so unsure if the question was appropriate.

“We skipped lunch, didn’t we? Why not eat out for dinner in a nice restaurant?” Wheeljack knew restaurants never allow slaves in, so it may give Blades some peace for a while.

“Yay! Dad, I want to eat grease cakes! The one where you took me last week!” His brother quickly forgot the solemnity just now.

“If that’s also Blades’s choice, of course.” His dad said matter-of-factly 

“I-I’m” he just stared at the scenery flying by outside the window and sighed. “I think, me too.” He didn’t really want to talk though he had never had grease cakes.

“Let’s go get it!” Wheeljack sounded mock-excitedly in a good-natured way.

Wheeljack took over the control and exited Allspark Ave. when he the trio entered the largest district in Iacon for Neutrals. There were so many nice restaurants that kept preparing fuels for many Solar-Cycles in an antebellum manner.

He stopped next to Mech Cog’s Grease Cake&Treats, “Ok, kids! Here we are!” Wheeljack waited for the two to get off and transformed back to his robot mode.

It was sort of off-time and there weren’t many mechs here. They chose a table at the corner before a waiter with green optics came with a menu.

"Hello Sir, _and_ these two lovely sparklings of yours! Welcome to Mech Cog's Grease Cake&Treats! How can I help you?" The waiter finished his line politely, smiling to the three and handed the menu to Wheeljack.

Blades was so nervous that his optics might change color suddenly, although he had been dealing with the codes quite refinedly.

"The two younglings will order first." He then handed the datapad to Blades.

His brother Beam made an order even before he looked at the menu."Mercury sauce vaseline cake meal, with mango flavored gasoline!" Blades was still flipping through the menu when he heard the exotic name, "What's mango?" He stopped browsing and asked.

"Oh, that's our new special, it's an organic flavour from a planet called Earth, it became a hit among sparklings as soon as we released it." The waiter explained patiently to him with a smile.

"Maybe, I'll have the same thing." He really had no idea about any food listed on the menu.

"You got it, what about you, Sir?" The waiter then turned to his dad, who was looking outside the window absentmindedly with his digits crossed in front of his intake.

"Oh, oh, yeah, just a bottle of High Grade, thanks." He seemed startled by the question.

"So two Mercury-Vaseline Meals with Mango Gasoline, and a bottle of high grade, that's thirty-three credits in total." The waiter quickly calculated.

"Keep the change."His dad handed the waiter 40 credits.

"Thank you, sir. In a minute."The waiter left with their order and credits.

Their orderes came soon. Beam began feasting on his treat as if he hadn't refueled for a year, Blades looked suspiciously at the strange dessert in front of him. A layer of goop with metallic gloss on top of a half-transparent base shining with warm Energon. But the drink smelled awesome in an exotic way, so he took a sip first.

It felt smooth and icy on his glossa, the Earth flavor became stronger and stronger as the gasoline vaporized, bringing the sweet flavour all through his olfactory system. The gasoline along was already the best tasting fuel he'd ever get.

He then scooped a spoonfull of his grease cake, the silvery sauce was dripping down when he lifted the spoon so he stuck it into his intake quickly. The sauce was slick with a thick metallic flavour that made him feel strong, but it faded quickly, revealing Vaseline's smooth texture on his glossa accopanied by warm waves of Energon taste, creamy sensations on is glossa as well as many more interesting and subtle mineral and metallic flavours hidden in the Vaseline, which he could'n tell apart, was a phenominal combination, meeting each and every definition of quality fuel, his processors were kicked into gears in excitement. After he swallowed the mouthfull, it was like every single joint in his frame worked better. He downed all his food quickly like Beam after his miraculous first-bite. 

Wheeljack found both sparklings finished before he hastily downed his High Grade still halfway up the bottle. They left with the two younglings burping in content.

Wheeljack said he couldn't drive in alt-mode when overenergized so they had to take public transport back home. It was a long trip but luckily it was late enouge so they didn't meet any slaves again on their way back.

But when they finally arrived, Blades was terrified by the enforcers waiting at their house.


	10. Groundhog

Groundhog was nothing if not a smart mech with his legendary functioning.

His childhood wasn’t mundane to say the least, he was warned by his Academy for Primus knew how many times and was finally kicked out for good when he was caught unconscious from O.D. in a maintenance room cell. An old cleaning Bot practically burnt his processors in terror when he broke into the cell and saw Groundhog's empty, dismal black optics. 

When he woke up on a Medic’s berth, he felt warm and soft mattress against his back struts, warm solar light scattered through the meshed ward window caressing his faceplate, a half-empty transfusion pack was hung up high beyond his blurry sight, he cleared his optics and tilted his head, not being surprised to find his guardians' absence, he didn't blame them though, he'd let them down for far too many times for them to find it helpful to sustain even a shard of spark-link with him. He sighed and followed the pressure on his servo and found Barricade kneeling beside his berth, helm resting on his side. His worn frame, from either years of radical racings or interrogations from enforcers after they were caught for crimes they did or did not commit, was crouched into an awkward position that was not easy to maintain by any means during a racharge, which he was apparently still in. Groundhog's right servo, the only part of his frame that was not mounted with layers of quilts, was tightly clenched by Barricade’s two. On the other side of his berth there were three chairs, two of which were occupied by Motorhead and Rollerforce, both nodding on and off because of theit sitting posture. Even the dripping sound of transfusion Energon was audible in the silent room.

His wakening EM field apparently sitmulated the three as their optics all brightened in excitement as they erected their backs to better view him.

“‘Hog! I can’t _believe it!_ You’re ok!” Barricade’s voice was coarse both out of fatigue and anxiety, he was sobbing for some reason that Groundhog felt guilty for, lubricant seeping from his optics, forming new streaks on his faceplate that re-dampened those dried ones.

“Hey, hey? What happened?” He fought his gloomy processor to sit up, carefully disengaged the quilts wrapped around him so that he didn't pull out the needle in his fuel line, he reached his other servo out and cupped ‘Cade’s soothingly before he found the other two began sobbing as well. 

“You O.D.ed in the Academy, a nice cleaning Bot found you and your mentor sent your here. Hook’s assistant commed us. We all thought you were gonna offline, were it not for those who helped you! How can you do this? **_How.Can.You.Do.This?_ ”** Barricade's howl of misery shattered the silence of th peaceful morning, his lubricant soaking the berth below, “We couldn’t let you go!” He pressed his faceplates tightly against Groundhog’s servos and cried like a sparkling.

Rollerforce and Motorhead were both looking at him, their leaking optics gazed into his with a confusing mixture of angered reproof and relief, a look he would never forget for the rest of his functioning. 

It was then that he felt his responsibility to be in Race Track Patrol whose members, the other three mechs, loved him so much. He couldn’t even dream corrupting himself, not even when it seemed impossible to carry on with his Academy, not after all those times they raced freely on highways outside Iacon among the suburbia, gleefully running from enforcers after they rubbed a store, not after one of them could fall unconscious on too much High Grade carefree, being able to wake up in another one’s house instead of a jell cell, not after they spent the wonderful nights when they enjoyed themselves so much form being linked together. He cherished the exuberant feeling when he was forced to close his impregnaion protocol before his spark was submerged by a dominating one, warm spurts of transfluid injected deep into his valve as they both overload, filling him with love that could overwhelm his processors.

He felt _so_ lucky and grateful for Hook to save himself for his teammates. The way his teammates idolized Hook made him jealous. He wanted to be a medic, a medic who could save bots, he finally understood how Barricade was inspired to be an enforcer after he was saved from his step-sire, he felt disgusted by himself that he almost laughed his aft off hearing the story and quipped ''Cade shall rise, fraggers shall fall.'

Of course he was denied when he offered to work for Hook without payment when he was discharged. “Spark’, I appreciate and understand your whim for this career, but for all it’s worth and as far as I am concerned, your are not meant to be a medic.”He still clearly remembered the pity and disappointment when Hook looked into his optics, he was felt spanked right in his faceplate by the pathetic remark made in front of all his teammates. 

" _Well,_ let's see!" He was determined to prove by himself that Hook was wrong, dropping his retort and left in fury. 

After the incident, the four decided to live together to keep better watch and never to disregard the law, and Groundhog suddenly became such a nerd that he began spending his days in the archives of Iacon, he surfed Cybertron network to resume his studies at night after a short break, his sparkmates would always send heated Energon and treats to his room if he didn't want to go to the refueling hall and clean away the empty containers after he finished. 

The study of Cybertronian physiology was indeed mundane as first, but encouragement and loving from his teammates kept him moving further, he came to respect how a Cybertronian body is composed and how it works. He was enthralled by its elegant complicity, wires and circuits are all perfectly arranged so that everything works flawlessly. He began to hate any and all factors that might inflict damage on such intricate mechanisms, he had quit drugs and High Grade binging for good. Much to everybot's surprise, he successfully passed all medic tests and became a well recognized medic of Iacon when he was still technically a youngling. 

The team joined the Decepticons later, without much doubt, Groundhog was immediately assigned a top medic by Megatron himself, working on injured Decepticons all day, everybot in the army knew him with respect, he managed to prove that Hook was wrong, Megatron's commision for him to work with Hook made him feel even more triumphant. Everything changed when Barricade went to a backwater mudball planet with Starscream to support the frontline and the three were left on Cybertron. They decided to go separate ways in case someone as lunatic as the air commander should suddenly use the three as leverage against Barricade.

Much to their confusion, almost as soon as the frontline moved to Earth, the war ended with Megatron's defeat, and their enemies won and they all became fugitives, Barricade was confirmed to have been a slave and fragged all day by Autobots he didn’t even know. Motorhead came for him to be on the run together while Rollerforce was nowhere to be found. The only thing he was sure was his team were all functioning albeit in distress when he tried to reach out for them, and he had the feeling that such functioning will not end before they manage to regroup.

_They will finally regroup, cause they loved each other. Right?_

Lying on his stained workshop berth during his break, he smiled again at his memory and all those years that had passed, opening his blue optics and rubbed at the patchy Autobot insignia on his yellow chest plating that caused an itch, the sudden dawn of peace had changed everything he's used to in a revolutionary way, a way which generations of Cybertronians who had passed forever during the war would've dreamed to witness, _what a great time to be online!_

“Ugh, Primus, Hey, ‘Hog, we’ve got a 'Con! You _gotta_ check him out ASAP!” Motorhead’s horrified voice came from the front door, interrupting his train of thought.

Groundhog, however did’t care to move at all, “It’s really getting busy these days, huh.”He took another sip of his oil. “Keep watch, let the mech in!”


	11. Groundhog

Usually, he wouldn’t be willing to get out of berth and give a better look until the mech says what he needs but this time, he nearly fell to the ground when he saw his customer. Was wad in my presented to him was a severely damaged, armless and torn up mech, who despite the amount of pain is still struggling to survive. 

Were the situation on the battlefield, which was full of his horrible memories, giving the mech an euthanasia wouldn’t be a farfeched choice. His professional career had taught him over and over that whatever attempt to salvage a spark, when wounded as such, merely out of compassion would be redundant under Megatron’s regime. He had pushed too many death plungers, seen pairs after pairs of optics black out.

 _Your sacrifice is much needed to the causes of Decepticons, soldier. May you Rest In Peace in the Well of All Aparks, Till All Are One._ The had been reduced to a pathetic line to say when he offlines a mech, for years, a line he had to, finish before the mech is gone, for polite gestures, but nothing much more than that......

With a ping in his systems, a memory file from his first day on front line was opened in his processors inadvertently, taking up half of his inner monitor, it was the definition of mayhem that surrounded him at the time when he got off his transport, with anticipation. Just the memory itself is still dreadful and daunting enough to make him shudder and cringe. He could hear barrages of missiles tearing through the air, and see cannon plasmas pouring down from the sky, out of nowhere, Autobots appeared and opened fire directly towards them , their unprepared comrades too the hardest hit, it was then that he realized that the Autobots ambushed and cornered a Decepticon scouting squad into a crater that revealed mazes of underground sturcture, their entire crew were made of grouders and had virtually nowhere to run. Though metallic, their frames were so fragile when it came to the lethal weapons that both sides were really good at engineering. He nearly purged himself when he saw heaps of nearly unidentifiable metal frame parts mixed with mushy Energon and lubricants scattered all over the place, scrapped armor plates, limbs, lacerated protoforms, large tracks of wires and fuelpipes, splinters of processors and torn-out optics strewn around. Several bots were running out of what few ammos they had as scouts when they were finally encircled by Autobots and slaughtered, a mech tried to escape but fell down crying when a beam of plasma burnt everything under his pelvis away, without legs, he began crawling slowly on the ground with his broken servos, only to be impaled through the spark chamber by an Autobot with a saber after a futile plea for mercy. He was petrified by the screams of pain, shrieks of flying bullets cutting through air and bodies, that completely engorged him in misery when Hook slammed into him as they both fell to one side before a missile blew up the place where he just stood, leaving a considerable crater.

“What were you thinking, kid? Get your slow aft moving!” Hook smacked his helm and glared at him before he dragged him to a makeshift medic office hidden among the barracks. “You worked your aft off to get here, you better keep it online a little longer!” Hook’s voice was full of fury and satire, sending a shiver down Groundhog’s back struts.

“We got an injured mech.” A young soldier entered with another mech on his back, the latter whose frame under his ventral engines was all gone, fresh Energon was squirting from severed main fuellines, forming a line of blotches after the soldier. “Save him, please!”

Groundhog watched flabberghasted as Hook raised an optical ridge. “I guess you don’t know what an _injured_ mech should look like, soldier.” Hook’s voice was incredibly calm. The soldier tried to protest before Hook beat him to it and pointed a digit to Groundhog. “Hey, you, put him down, he’s not gonna make it.”

“No, no, no, please, he’s my twin, my brother, it’s his first day here! _Please, save him! _”__ The soldier laid of twin, or what was left of him, on a vacant berth and knelt in front of Groudhog and began bawling, optical lubricant pouring down his face. “Look at him! He’s still online, he WILL make it, doc, if you save him, please do, please!” He wrapped both his servos around one of Groudhog’s, his desolate, terrified, red optics looking up at him with all the respect and prayer.

“He will be deactivated painlessly now or leak out like this later. And you’ll have to clean up that berth for me.” Hook snapped in before Groundhog was even able to process, “Ugh... this is gonna be a tough one.” He then shook his head with a sigh.

“No! Please!” The soldier wailed before he stood up wrapped his arms around his twin protectively. “ **No!** ”

”Listen kid” Hook set all his equipment down and walked over, laying both servos on the agonizing soldier’s shoulder. “I know this must be hard for you, but your brother is in a lot of pain now, a-lot-of-pain.” He paused and stared directly into the soldier’s optics with affirmation. “He would be grateful, for your decision, at this very moment, to let him go.” 

“It’s....It’s o......ok, l....let me g.....go. F....ind n....new.” His twin coughed out some Energon clots clogging his intake tubes and somehow managed to mumble feebly in distinguishable excruciation, barely audible, his dim lit optics were at the verge of extinguishing. Spurts of fresh energon were still escaping his system at an alarming rate, completely soaking the sheet and berth beneath him, then the pink liquid continues dripping to the ground. 

"Cries.... **No!** I can't lose you...cries!" Was all Groundhog could make out from the soldiers lament.

“H.....Hey, I, w....will, n....ever, never, f.....for forg.....get you.” The dying mech placed a trembling servo on his sobbing brother’s helm for good measure. “I.....I I l......love, you, F......Fire......”, the mech fell into stasis before he could finish the name. The servo on his brother’s helm collapsed to the berth.

“I love you too, Fireshaft.” Was everything the soldier managed to squeeze out to his twin’s flaccid body between sobs and tears.

“It does hurt to lose you sparkmate, soldier, but as your twin said, you can always find a new one, he would never forget you even so.” Hook’s calm and empathizing voice came from another berth, where he was working on a true ‘injured mech’. “We will fight on, your brother was a great soldier, whose sacrifice is significant, and remarkable to the cause of the Decepticons, may him Rest In Peace in the Well of All Sparks, Till All Are One!” A part of Groundhog heard something from his tone that Hook was sarcastic but compassionate.

“Till All Are One.” The soldier murmured before he slowly but finally, got himself decently collected and stood up to his full height. He braced himself for the impact on his spark that’s bound to come, and gave Groundhog a glance fearfully. “Go ahead, doc.”

Without a word, he grimly pulled out a syringe from his subspace with his shaking servo and slipped the needle into a fuel line on Fireshaft’s neck, he pushed the plunger before what’s left of the body became gray in seconds, the hard earned silence torn asunder again by the excruciating keen cry of the soldier. He totally collapsed to the ground with his servos covering his spark.

But all of a sudden, the soldier’s optics glinted blue for a brief second before he sprung up to his full height, with a smirk on his face he glared directly into Groundhog’s optics while his arm blade, which was covered in Energon, lodged in place for its next kill.   
  


“You just killed my brother, now it’s your turn to die, you Decepticon punk!” He didn’t even realize that the mech was actually so much taller and bigger than he is when he was kneeling.   
  


“Frag, you’re an Auto....., Hook! HOOK!!!!HOOOOOOOOO.......” just to realize Hook was nowhere to be found, he was alone in the ward, defenseless with a much bigger and stronger enemy holding a deadly weapon. He tried to run but was immediately pinned down by the Fire....whatever mech.   
  


“Now it’s you.”

That was all he heard before the first blow landed on his ventral place, the blade easily cut through all his protoform and finally hit the ground underneath him. It was a weird sensation that rushed through his system, not exactly painful but made him wanna puke. 

Then it was the second blow, which landed squarely between his optics, his visual input shut down as his processors were destroyed......

“No!! I’m sorry, **I’M SORRY, please!** ” Groundhog woke up wailing from his nightmare, he shot up from the berth and found Hook sitting on his side after he rubbed his lubricant blurred optics.

“It was indeed a hard day-one, kid.” Hook’s voice was thick with concern.

“You...you wasn’t recharging?” He asked surprisedly, while warily pulling further away from Hook because he felt his privacy was violated. 

“Huh, I’ve been sitting here watching you ever since you fell into recharge, i knew a nightmare would hit you sooner or later after what you did today, I knew this the second I knew you. Just wanna make sure you’re fine.” Hook’s optics looked so deep but soft, unfathomable with how much pain he’d witnessed or taken himself.

“Um, thanks?” Groundhog wasn’t sure how he should respond to this unexpected kindness, and smiled awkwardly. 

“‘Hog, you’re a smart spark, and stubborn, really stubborn, after the day you were discharged from my clinic, I knew you’re gonna prove me wrong some day, and you did it.” He moved next to Groundhog and patted his back with a warm smile. “But besides feeling being slapped right in my face plate, I felt proud for you, worried at the same time.” He squeezed one of Groundhog’s back tyres in a comfortable manner.

“How?” Groundhog regretted immediately but he really wanted to know is Hook is being sarcastic.

Hook continued with a sigh. “I’ve never seen anybot finish his medic trainings so fast, that’s why I was so proud for you. I knew that you wanted to be a medic just because you wanted to help those bots in need, like what I did to you and your gestalt, but that’s not always the case when you actually come to take the responsibility, because you’re a kind spark, almost too kind for this cause we’re pursuing.” Hook paused for Groundhog to process and prepare. “That’s why I said you weren’t meant for the job, I believed that your intellect can be for something bigger, something that’s not affiliated with all this madness." He placed a servo on Groundhog's shoulder and stroked tenderly across the wide span.

”What should I do? I’m supposed to help other bots but what went down today was not exactly what I thought.” He rested his chin on his kneecaps, and wrapped his arms around his legs.

”You were doing exactly what was needed for a military medic, helping injured soldier, even sometimes your best judge tells you otherwise.” Hook spoke calmly. “When that happened, it’s because you were linked to the mech that was in misery, by your empathy.”

Groundhog half closed his optics and processed what Hook was talking about.

“The more you’re linked, the harder you’ll let go, even if it’s the best decision. Making a decision concerning a mech’s life was never easy by any means, that’s why we have medics at all, not just because we need somebot to heal the others." Groundhog nodded slightly before Hook continued.“And medics are even more needed during war not just because more mechs get injured or ill, our comrades need cool minds when they are faced with dying sparks, so that everybot can get what’s best. It is hard to prioritize logic when you’re emotional, especially when you know the value of a sparklink and how it’s gonna feel when it’s severed even if severing one would be the best choice, just like what happened today.” Hook’s voice sank in sentiment.

“Was it really the best choice?” Groundhog huffed at the veer of tone.

“Did you spot a complete lower frame on the battlefield today?”Hook's question was curt and calm.

“What?”The mayhem stroke his processor again and he shooked it away.“No, I guess not.”

“You see kid, we never had back up frame parts for the injured, every single piece of metal was used to build weapons and strongholds.” He continued as he saw some enlightenment in Groundhog's optics“A new lower frame may be built in a few Groons, which apparently the mech didn’t have when he'd lost more than sixty percent of his body. Apart from the Energon depletion, he lost all the vitals in his lower body. T-Cog, Energon Transfer Devices, Tanks, you name it, which shouldn’t be hard for you, what’s more, his Energon circulation will automatically shut down when it’s so incomplete physically, which means even immediate transfusion won’t help at all.”

“So you let me deactivate him to terminate his suffering?”Groundhog asked tentatively.

“Basically, yes.”Hook sighed. "It's the best outcome for everybot, even for the soldier who lost his brother." He smiled as Groundhog nodded understandingly, the memory flashback stopped, leaving the meaningful smile on his optical feed.

He inhaled and looked at the mech again, he's supposedly a seeker judging from what's remaining of his golden cockpit on the red basis, but his wings were almost gone with only some flaps pending his back by lines, arms were also gone, leaving twisted cables on their remaining stumps, apparently cut off by something sharp first and double harmed later, dried Energon streaks all over his back and sides. Apart from all these injuries, his supposedly once-pretty finish was worn out almost completely, with filth covering the exposed metal instead. Dried transfluid smeared all over his frame, especially on his arrays around the bare broken valve with fresh Energon still dripping onto his thighs and the ground. “Primus!” Groundhog murmured by instinct.

“Oh, slag it to the pit!” The mech cursed and fell to the ground on his aft, struggling to get ready for escape when he heard the curse and looked into Groundhog's optics. But it was virtually impossible for him to get up without his arms, no matter where he came from, it couldn’t be too far away. “I give you whatever you want, just let me go! Don’t call the cops, please!” The mech pleaded out of unmistakable fear and hatred. Then Groundhog realized he completely forgot his drill during his recount.

He smacked himself on the helm before he shifted his optics into red. “Hey, mech, calm down, I’m a Con!” He softened his voice the best as he could and showed his bare servos.

"Wh....What? You Con? How possible?" The seeker's words were as confused just as his expression on his faceplate.

"Let's make things straight, you have to trust me now, you’re in critical situation." Groundhog stated calmly and steadily.

"Huh, like I don't know it already." The seeker puffed with what little air his venting system could contain. "Work on me then, it's not like I can run when you turn out as a 'Bot." His ability to quip when so damaged made Groundhog as surprised as how wounded he was did.

"What's your designation, mech?" Groudhog asked as he helped the seeker to the nearest berth and laid him down.

"Thrust." The seeker replied at once. "You're....um.....Groundhog?"

"In the frame!" Groundhog replied as he gave the mech a sedative dose before the latter trustingly fell into recharge.

He didn't have spare limbs handy, so he just removed those arm stumps to expose the operable joint bearings and neural transmitters for later re-attachment, and he had to remove the entire cockpit frame for re-installment. The most tedious part was his valve, it's external structure apparently damaged by abrasive objects, when he reached his digits inside the valve tunnel, he found ripped and warped mesh covered with gooey substance, he could also feel layers of penetrated artificial seals still clinging onto the wall, it was indeed vial, his digits reeked of different fluids. He moved onto the waste port, when he carefully slid a digit inside, there was no observable contraction reflex. Luckily he had spare replacement for these parts as he pulled out a set of functioning meshing materials gathered from a deceased mech. It was a tedious process to replace the mesh and reattach all the wires and tubes onto it, the calipers was easier replaced but it wasn’t easy to reconfigure until they recalibrate themselves. He allowed access to all Thurst's protocols by hard-lining, all but his T-Cog, incase he further damage himself by transforming reflexively. It wasn't until midnight that he finished cleansing the last stain of filth on his frame.

He tumbled into berth and turned on his TV when Motorhead entered his room like a cat and closed the door behind them.

"The Con's gonna make it, or is he?" He asked tentatively.

"I'm 'Hog, of course he’s gonna make it!" A bit nagged, he retorted his mate sourly. "Um...sorry, I...I, didn't mean it like that. Let's just watch some TV together?" His voice became uncertain.

"Uh, ok?" Motorhead grabbed a pillow and landed next to 'Hog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please kindly leave kudos, comments on anything you'd like me to improve! :)


	12. Groundhog

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.....when the great Autobot army besieged the last Decepticon-occupied city Kaon, however, their resistance became _unprecedentedly_ fierce, Autobot casualty poll has reached 122 since the beginning of Ultra Magnus’s offensive. According to army general, his attempt to negotiate was unsuccessful, Hyper-Energon Missiles are being deployed to all Autobot assemblies engaged in the battle, ready to wipe out the city and its residents at _any_ time......

The TV was snapped off by Motorhead.

  
“Hey! I was _watching_ that!” Groundhog protested, servos spread, sending a signal to the TV to turn it back on, only to be turned off by his annoying companion again. 

“No you’re not, are you?” Motorhead then mocked Hog’s sulking face playfully. Seeing him turning away in disgust, Motorhead grew serious, “C’mon babe, no need to squander the night on those slag, nothing but the Autobots had it all, making it hard for all of us, slag like that, what d’you think?” He waited for his words to sink in for a little bit before he gently caressed Groundhog’s lip plates with his, his breath brushed against his metals, a smirk appeared on his faceplate when he heard ‘Hog’s fans kicked on with a whirl. “You’re sorta hungry!”

“I-I’m not quite in the mood.” Groundhog defended, his whisper was barely audible, _this is so unprofessional!_ Getting aroused so easily even when every single aspect of his life and his past-comerades was so fragged up.

“I’ll take that as a well-designed _prelude_ , since your systems tell me that you are.” Motorhead slid his digits down Hog’s flank plates, across his thigh and back to his abdomen, advancing at a desperate slow pace, toward the spot as Hog’s spark kindled with passion and affection, a digit finally reached the panels before it was withdrawn. Groundhog groaned in disappointment, but was even more humiliated when he found the glee on Motorhead’s face plate doubled. “You are so needy today, which is, kind of _weird._ ”

Groundhog didn’t protest again, he _wanted_ this, he felt so insecure after all those memory file marathons and horrible TV shows(for THEM of course), he would die for some time of being dominated and protected by someone in his team right now, _even when nobot was strong enough to really change anything to the better._ “‘Head, please, if you want this, tease less.” He hissed the sentence out and landed himself on all four, expecting Motorhead would obediently go to his back, restraining him and giving him a thorough, and hard overload. 

“I know, I know, you impatient, juicy little sheath.” He landed a light kiss on Groundhog’s lip plates again. “A nice fat saber on its way!” However, he knelt in front of Groundhog and slowly opened his panels before he pressurized his spike, it was indeed nice and fat, proudly jolting out from his pelvis, Groundhog lubricated his intake and immediately opened his panels, baring his arrays when he saw the rings of bio-light throbbing in row with Motorhead’s spark. He reached out a servo for the spike before the pair of dispicable servos was placed between him and the spike protectively, halting his movements. “ _Look_ at it first, scour the _whole_ thing using your optics and you gotta be patient, doesn’t it look like a piece of art for crying out loud?” Motorhead’s voice, however, was utter teasing when he mocked the seriousness, he wriggled his aft to shake his thick spike for good measure, trying to overload Groundhog just visually.

“A lavish saber indeed.” Groundhog painfully managed to suppress his desire and commented, his furious glare riveted on Motorhead’s optics. “Its sheaths have all been well lubricated, _your majesty._ ” His could feel the tickling streaks of lubricant on the inner sides of his thigh sliding down from his empty valve which is currently clenching onto nothing in anticipation of touch.

“Thank you very much, it’s very considerate of you.” He condescendingly stroked Groundhog’s helm. “I guess I’d have to choose the one _right_ in front of me _first._ The other two seemed......too unstable.” He peeked at the puddles of lubricant at Groundhog’s knees and remarked thoughtfully.

Without hesitance, Groundhog took the length in his intake, stroking it with his glossa with what little commodity was left there, mapping out grooves and bulges and exploring all the thermo sources the rings of bio-lights produced. He felt a servo put gently behind his helm to help with his rutting movement, it felt so patronizing in a arousing way. A small spurt of pre-transfluid was ejected with Motorhead’s groan. He swallowed all of it eagerly.

“Oh, that was an automatic sheath, sliding on by its own. How was it by the way?” Motorhead asked solicitously.

“Better than the best High Grade.” Groundhog couldn’t believe he replied without himself having a say.

“Then the other two shall share the rest, turn your cute little aft to me.” Motorhead’s winked his optic mischievously.

“Fair enough.” Groundhog was rapturous.

Motorhead was so damn right, almost as soon as the spike deep into his valve and perfectly hit all the nodes, he overloaded with a long gasp. “OOOH, ‘ Head, I love you, so good inside me!” It would be the exact same feeling in his memory if there were a tight spark merge.

“Love you too, ‘Hog, but you better keep rocking your little aft, until I come, if you want to, or I'll have to finish it myself.” He slapped a servo across Groundhog’s aft when he lazied his pace after the overload.

He clenched his valve and rutted faster against the spike, body trembling rhythmically when his caliper sank into one after another ring of groove distributed on it. He looked over his shoulder and saw that Motorhead put both his servos on his back, and closed his optical lids, apparently enjoying the nice service he provided.

With a moan, Motorhead finally overloaded, a large spurt of warm liquid injected into Groundhog’s valve, some was expelled by the pressure and was slowly flowing down his thigh.

“Damn it, your port is still kinda thirsty.” Motorhead sounded a little furious.

“It’s ok, I’m tired now.” Groundhog didn’t really want to take it in his port though, _it was too big._

“Then recharge, I’ll clean you up.” Motorhead’s voice immediately turned to his standard caring one.

He laid down on his back and closed his optical lids before he heard the metallic clangs when ‘Head depressurized his spike and closed his panels. Soft sheets of cloth meticulously cleaned his arrays and the sticky liquid on his thighs, it was so relaxing that he slid into recharge quickly and contended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please kindly leave kudos, comments on anything you'd like me to improve! :)


	13. Soundwave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before everything began.

Bumblebee was the most peculiar/lunatic/compassionate mech he’d ever met, correction, he was still technically a mechling.

When he heard about Megatron’s death and realized that everything was over, he didn’t even care to hide from Autobot arresting like most of his companions did. He had known too well about his fate that’s bound to to dawn if he got caught and sent back to Cybertron for trial, running would only add to his already irrevocable war crime, so why bother?

He was cuffed and obediently following Optimus Prime and his team to his transport when Bumblebee, who was staying with his human friends, spoke up in his radio.

Ziit —::Opt-team-us.....::His blue optics faltered as if he was afraid of whatever he was going to say.

“Speech granted, lieutenant Bumblebee.” Optimus was as like himself as ever.

::ziit leave Sound-wave, We-ziit- need- communication-ziit-on earth:: Bumblebee stated the fact using his unique radio voice.

“What? That’s lil’ Bee? Ye serious, ‘e’s Soundwave fer crying ou’ loud, ye can handle tha’?” Jazz was too eager to intervene to realized he disregarded his rank.

“Spec Ops Jazz, your disrespect to your rank and your comrade’s request will be forgiven this time.” Optimus’s voice was calm with undefiable authority.

“’m serry, Optimus.” Jazz’s blue visor looked to the ground in shame.

“Bumblebee, your proposal was well noted, but it’s much to my concern that you may not be capable of managing Soundwave. And there are plenty of Autobots you can choose from Cybertron.” Optimus’s blue optics _was_ actually filled with concern, which was not usual to Soundwave.

::ziit I dunno, man. ziit..... I kinda....ziit... trust him.:: Bumblebee’s shrugged, as if he was following his instinct, and Soundwave knew such instinct wasn’t completely wrong for some reasons.

Whispering voices began to rise from Team Prime, Optimus held out a hand for them to quiet. “We trust you, too, Bumblebee, and this is your choice to make, if you insist, Soundwave would have to stay with you, after some modifications in his systems of course.”

Bumblebee just nodded, optics determined.

His transport was cancelled before he was sent to Ratchet’s medical bunker. Not much was twitched except his Energy output was set at its lowest value and his weaponry codings were deactivated. Anyway, it’s better to stay here with limited freedom than to be impounded and bereft of any.

His wobbled when he walked out of the medbay because of his reduced hydraulics, but he got used to it quickly, _since this might as well be the rest of his functioning_. His still had his cuffs on when he was handed to Bumblebee. All he had done so far was silently obeying everything he’s told.

“Soundwave, I hope you will not disappoint our trust. We will be a space bridge away if we find it necessary for an inspection.” Optimus’s cold blue optics was riveted on his red visor.

He nodded in consent, _what else could he do?_

Much to his surprise, Bumblebee disengaged his cuffs as soon as his Team left with all his ex-comrades through space bridge, back to Cybertron for their justice.

“Why me? It't not like you ran out of choices.” Soundwave asked nonchalantly as he stretched his frame with what little strength he had, getting rid of the kinks in his joints and bearings.

:: ziit, I said......ziit, I dunno.....:: Soundwave didn’t expect this to be a truth rather than his cute subterfuge. ::ziit you _will_.....behave. ziit Won’t you?::

“I guess so.” Soundwave softened his robotic voice the best he could. “You saved me.”

::ziit...perhaps.... Let’s call it a day....ziit. I’m kinda.....off..... it was a long day.” Bumblebee mocked a yawn. “You.....recharge....with me?”

“ _No_ other hangers?” Soundwave suddenly became defensive at the request.

Bee stiffened at the question but pointed to another hanger next to his anyway. He yawned again and slumped into his berth in his hanger, quickly fell into recharge without a word from his radio.

Soundwave watched as the mechling slept, _this felt so unusual._ Bumblebee didn’t even bother putting away his weapons, could Soundwave make use of this? 

_Kill him, blow up his helm with a cannon, and run, he’d been such a pain in the aft on the battlefield._

Soundwave tried to access to his arm cannon in anger, but his request was _indeed_ denied. 

_Are you kidding, where?_

_Anywhere, his Team wouldn’t know without your help, at least you’ll have some time and you’ll be totally free!_

_No, he just trusted me so I can’t do that._

_C’mon!_

_Too late, I’m Soundwave and you should’ve said that before I decided._

Soundwave dragged his flaccid body to his hanger and plopped into the berth. He felt so powerless when his energy output is low, _but it was strangely comfortable,_ a deep recharge claimed him soon.


	14. Wheeljack

By the time he was on his unit block, it was too late for him to escape himself, not to mention with his two charges. The Lancia could be a racer on the road but he couldn’t afford the stasis tasing ensuing his decisions to make the enforcers eat his dust .

But wait, there’s something off about the enforcers.

Instead of a standard patrol consisting of two members, there was three of them, the leader of whom was the very cop that visited his house two days ago. He’d already been in cuffs and fetters together with his mechlings by now if they were here for his arrest, and they were not in a hurry if their cocky gait was anything to go by.

“Hah! And the little ones!” The leader, who spread his arms open when his blue optics landed on Beam and Blades. 

Feeling a mental blade held against his neck, he bent and wrapped his arms around his young ones and lifted them. Blades’s frame was ice cold and quivering in sheer fear and his tightened field was telling as much, he grasped his arm so hard to brace himself when Wheeljack reached for him and offered him some security. By contrast, Beam was missing the clue and confused, optics riveted on the enforcer with menace.

Wheeljack peeked at Blades’s optics, they were still blue, deep with worry but obviously, he was doing well.

Nontheless, almost certainly his little gesture did not manage to elude an enforcer.

An faint smirk went across the enforcer’s faceplate in a second and Wheeljack’s Spark sank, he messed up again.

“Really nice sparklings of yours.” He released his words together with his vent comfortably. “Not many parental units these days, if any, would care to design a frame that’s about to be discarded soon in their first upgrade.” He shook his head for good measure in a melodramatic way. “Can I?” He reached a servo out to Blades.

“......No.” It was intuitive but not after a long hesitance, not before the servo landed on Blades’s helm.

Maybe he just blurted the words out or the enforcer had a poor hearing, he didn’t seem to receive the due respect from the enforcer when he showed no signs of stopping. Digits sliding down the delicate grills of an audio sensor, Blades’s field was thick with terror as he knew the fact that a servo caressing him could turn violent, fatal in this case, on a fragile component abut his cerebral corona. And he was begging through his field, in a way only repetitive beseeching as a slave would forge, for Wheeljack to speak up for him, louder against this strange enforcer.

“Umm, I.Said. **NO**.” It’s not a good idea to refuse an enforcer but he did it anyway, since he alleged to Primus on this matter.

The servo lingered, for a moment that seemed too long for Wheeljack, and nipped at the tip of the olfactory sensor before it left. Blades’s field loosened a bit, he buried his helm in Wheeljack’s armpit for protection, his metals were getting a bit warmer from the circulation finally resumed within.

“Heeeeey! Look at you!” The enforcer played innocent. “Being all dour just like that?”

“Cut your cute attitude, let get down to the problem if there’s any, shall we?” Wheeljack replies blandly but with the inference in his tone that he didn’t plan to say it twice.

He huffed, but knew better than not to play it straight. “Would you mind if we talk inside your house?” 

Wheeljack shook his head slightly, the enforcer gestured to his two guards, who had been nonentity this whole time, and flanked Wheeljack and himself until they were at the front door.


	15. Soundwave

“What the hell, Bee?” 

It was after a long and satisfying recharge that he was rebooted by the angered outcry of a voice that used to cause him so much trouble. 

He still remembered his place, that’s why he flinched and reached the far edge of his berth, but he was further reminded of the tampering in his systems when he landed on his pedes and tipped over on his feeble legs. His visuals faltered and glitched after the rather strong impact when he landed on his chest, his processors was humming, making him want to purge. 

He just laid there, he couldn’t even get up, not when it can fry his brain module.

“Ziit... scuse me, ma’am.” Soundwave could see from beneath the berth that the female human, who was currently glaring at him, looked ditched when the pair of yellow pedes entered his hanger and the door behind them was slammed shut, leaving the dumbfounded girl outside. 

His spark went crazy as the familiar yellow figure went around his berth and approached him before it squatted on his side, stirring up a breeze that brushed across his frame, sending smells of fruity car wax he wasn’t used to, making him shudder.

The warrior does literally anything for the boy and his girlfriend, distracted as he was on the battle field, he still cared so much about the wicked Samuel James Witwicky, now that his loved one is not happy about his presence...... he’s so not going to end well.

Why would he keep him then? _Just a toy to slaughter when he found him useless and disturbing?_

His thought was cut short when the radio voice spoke up.

“Ziit... ye....OK?” It was hard to tell his true emotions from his kinky combination of excerpts. Soundwave accepted the solicitude it should be carrying, if any.

“My...my helm hurts. My hydraulics don’t work, I’m falling into another recharge.....” He just paraphrased the glyphs that were flickering on his visual feed, draining his strength. 

“.....the medic.... you went too far......” the Camaro went directly back to the door and went out before he closed it. He came back with a bunch of wires in his arms, obviously from the medic hanger. “Ye gotta....let down yer.....fire... wall...m’K?” 

It was a private act among Decepticons, _one wouldn't be prompt to obey even if Megatron asked him to do hardline with somebot else._

He did it anyway, now that his refusal wouldn’t help. After all the yellow scout wasn't here to offline him, he just didn’t wish to fall into stasis and die like this if he resisted. New warnings of viral threat pinged when he shut down his defence systems but he managed to quell his urge to re-establish it.

It was unexpectedly relaxing when Bumblebee messed with the pile of wires and tried different types of connectors at his data port. He slipped into another much needed recharge quickly, leaving everything at his ex-enemy’s mercy.


	16. Wheeljack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4 threads, each in a different timeline!!!

The group stopped in front of his house, waiting for him to put his servos on his keys hidden in his subspace, troublesome as it was, he didn’t put Beam and Blades down on the ground, the boss snickered at his acrobatic fumbling as he finally pulled out his keys and opened the door.

“Only legit hackers find bio-locks insecure, huh?” The enforcer commented aptly.

“Didn’t stop you from bugging on me, did it?” Wheeljack rolled his optics and pondered over what confession would be force to make this very night. “Wait here before I let you mecha in, would you?”

“As you wish, doctor.” The pimp leaned on the doorframe and began going through news on his hologram.

Wheeljack headed down the hall way until chattering noice from the video was obscured. He put his two children on the ground, who were keeping silent and obedient this whole time. “I-Beam, Bladewings, I hope you both had a nice day today, don’t worry about the enforcers, they aren’t here for you, and I promise that I won’t let you see them again. Just go to the wash racks as last night and recharge in my room, remember to close the door and not to come out before I’m back, promise?” The two sparklings were hesitance to nod and walked around the corner, light scattered through the dark hall way briefly when they turn on the light of the living area before the door was shut behind them.

He returned to the front door, where the boss was still watching his hologram. “In.”

“What I heard was a nice father, I hope, as much as you do, that those promises will stick.” The enforcer sighed as he closed his hologram. “Well, I guess I didn’t introduce myself last time. Designation Siren, nice to meet you, Wheeljack, our greatest engineer.”

Wheeljack nodded for addressing. “These two, are my assistants, Horsepower, and Hosehead.” The purple-black bot with white poleyns and protruding pauldrons and the bulky red mech with silver chest and cuisses addressed him in tandem. “Sir.”

“You _can_ come in.” Wheeljack gave way for good measure. Siren and his ancillaries entered, Siren picked the exact same couch in front of the slab table he chose last time and sat down. Wheeljack sat on the opposite of the table. And unsurprisingly, he un-subspaced that tempting high-grade with frosty solvent deposited on the frigid bottle, this time followed by two petite goblets special for Energon oenology.

“It’s real good stuff, but save it for later. Now I’d like you to listen.” He gestured to Hosehead, whose loudspeaker chirped as it went fast forward before it slowed down.

...... _You did well, but your right optic is still red. Let’s practice in front of the mirror._

_You look so good with blue optics!_

_Thank you, Beam!_

_Hey, look, what’s that on your left servo?_

_......_

_Blades, I apologize for what just happened, I just want you to remember, no matter what happens around you, you can’t forget to cover your original_......

“Huh, what else would you come for.” Wheeljack rolled his optics again.

“And no need to deny, it’ll be our word against yours, we have voice recognition drones, in case you don’t know that......”

“You’re here to get something off from me with your pieces of evidence, I’m still smart enough to see that, so cut to the chase.” Wheeljack interrupted Siren and leaned into the fluffy couch.

“Hmm, let’s begin with your Team Prime, they didn’t really....” Siren wore a grim mien when he divulged as he poured the glowing beverage into the goblets with his versed servos. Tantalizing scents of pleasure reached for everybot present.

The words however, caught Wheeljack off guard, _so the worst had already happened during his complete oblivion._

“W-What? What about them? **What.Happened?** ” He yelled at Siren, his arm cannon transformed and powered up on its own accord. The last thing he remembered before everything went south, he shot up from his couch and slammed a fist on the table, knocking over the small containers, and pushed the glowing muzzle on Siren’s neck.

Of course, Hosehead and Horsepower pointed their loaded weapons directly at his helm.

Siren just bared his servos to surrender as Wheeljack's coarse breath brushed against his faceplate. “ **What.Happened.To.Them.** ” Wheeljack wasn’t showing the least timidity at the situation and grinded the words out. “ **Talk!** ”


	17. Bumblebee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should he not be doing someting this whole time?

He was a youngling, a subject of love and protection from his team. The scout was the one of the sharpest tools among his rank, that’s why he ended up with Prime’s team, whose members are all, if not of the same age, older than him, well attended, almost babied as he was, he feels lonely from time to time, _inevitably._

He earned however, a true friend, an unexpected one who was a human here on earth, and he crossed his spark that he would do anything to protect him and his girlfriend.

But out of no reason, he was helping his red-visored enemy right now, who was deep in unconsciousness in front of him and trusting him with his functioning. This would be the last thing he would do if it were for his friend but his spark was telling him otherwise.

Echoing deep within was a new feeling that he wasn’t accustomed to as a youngling, probably the one that he heard from other bots when he eavesdropped intentionally or inadvertently.

And the feeling was guiding him to fight for Soundwave’s remedy no matter the cost.

But it didn’t change the fact that he wasn’t a savvy medic as Ratchet, who did all these twitchings at the first place. He really shouldn’t have turned deaf audials to the medic’s briefings, whatever he could have missed would look like a hidden blessing right now. 

He needed help.

And the only person that came to his mind was Mikaela, who’d been a mechanic herself added that she learned more of her ropes from Ratchet during all those weekends.

He slid out from the hanger and furtively glanced around as he walked to the main hanger before he ran into Sam and Mikaela conversing at the corner, he feigned what was defined as smile to cover up his embarrassment.

“So what now, Bee? “ Mikaela stood with arms akimbo, face looking bland.

“Look, Bee, it’s Soundwave what we are talking about, why should he stay here with only you?” Sam’s harsh tone made his spark twist. “You know we are worried about you, and choose this as our weekend gift when we come for your visit?” 

He stared at the ground, optics dilated in shame and guilt. He played with his digits to give himself some distraction from the awkward situation.

“Sorry, Bee, we didn’t mean it that way, why are you coming out now? Is there a problem?” Mikaela came to his rescue, Sam nodded for good measure.

He sheepishly turned his optics to her.

“Come on, we’re not mad at you, you know you’re an open book and you need help, and we will help you.” Mikaela looked earnest, so no need to play cute anymore.

“Ziit...... I need to.....fix..... Soundwave.” He put it straight.

“Bee! Ugh, whatever.” Sam slumped into the sofa and turned on the TV. 

Mikaela roll her eyes on him and turned back to Bumblebee. “Are you sure?”

“Ziit......yah.....I’m sure about that......he means no harm.....that I can assure you.” Bee squeezed another smile.

“Ok then.” Mikaela stepped onto his offered servos and the duo went into Soundwave’s hanger.

He handed the pile of wire to the girl before she winced.

“Hardlining is never my forte but I can try instructing you, so it looked like his vitals are low we need to turn them back up. Here, this end into your dataport and the other into his.” She picked the correct wire at once and gave it to Bee, he pushed one end into his port and the other to Soundwave’s.

“Try to look for that vital package under the main directory.” She instructed as if she was surprised that she should be teaching an alien robot to do this.

Thankfully, Soundwave’s firewall was completely off, he slipped into him smoothly, it took him a while to find where his vital package was located, but the configuration interface within was too messy for him to understand.

“Ziit.....it’s a myriad of......control switches....here.” He shrugged.

“Well, if you’re not familiar with the panel, don’t fiddle with it or it would be fatal, just......just......reset everything back to default, I wish I could go with you down there......” She sighed. “That switch is on the last page.”

He slid through the control panels and inserted the command to reset all.

_Are you sure you want to reset all configurations back to default? (Y/N)_

He hesitated, Ratchet’s disappointed face struck his processors.

_Soundwave said he would behave, didn’t he?_

_You are trying to help your enemy who caused you and your friends so much sufferings!_

_The war is over._

And he inserted Y command.

Soundwave’s system whirled as his hydraulics kicked into gears and his ventilation worked faster. The red visor glimmered several times before it lit up.

Shooting up from the ground on seeing the girl again on his side, Soundwave crouched into a corner for defense. He looked at his servos when he felt his strength back in him.

“Soundwave, our friend Bumblebee has kindly saved your aft, you will _not_ hurt anyone anymore!” Mikaela demanded with minute malice.

For the third time, Bumblebee smiled at the dumbfounded Soundwave.


	18. Ironhide

“No, they’re not! And **Get Off From Me**!” Crosshairs protested as he punched his fists at Ironhide’s broad venting plates.

“Hey, babe, what are you doing? You’re gonna wake everybody.” He glanced at Sam and Mikaela at the sofas before he continued. “You were doing fine, weren’t you?” 

“Doing fine as your slut?” Crosshairs turned his optics flaming with blue light to Ironhide. “Your willing little whore, one you can dump and bail on _whenever you see fit_?” 

“What are you talking about? Have you been on boosters?” Within his spark he was wondering what exactly Crosshairs dreamed. “The humans are here, I would hold it if I were you.”

“Look who’s talking now!?” Lubricant began seeping from his optics, leaving two tracks of dampness down his faceplate illuminated by the sapphire aura from his optics, standing out from the darkness surrounding him. “Look what you and your team have done this whole time since the war ended, anything more than earning a couple of new holes for you to stick your spikes, and some real spikes to fill up your own ports and valves?” He looked around the hanger, optics meeting with Jazz, Barricade, even Optimus Prime and Starscream. “You think you, the Autobots, are the omnipotent, the can-do mechs that saves the universe? Look what you’ve end up with, being on the run for your functioning, even from your comrades!! Where did that “freedom is the right of all sentient beings” go, Optimus? You had to trade me for your own good, let along the thousands of Decepticons, even sparklings! Still waiting to offline back on......” Crosshairs’s tantrum went on and on before Ironhide forcefully pressed a servo on his intake.

“Enough! How dare you little whore? Who do you think you are?” He was truly pissed at Crosshairs’s arrogance. “For anything concerning your _damn_ identity, you **ARE** a slut of mine, who goes down to take everything stuck in front of your face and being _all_ willing and needy! And dare you talk with Optimus like that again, I’m gonna crush your helm into slags!” He bellowed with his deep voice before he slid open his panels as his spike began to pressurize. “For you, nothing cures better than a thorough frag in all your holes available, my little toy.” 

“Hey, hey, guys, hold it, wait until I get out!” Sam tossed on his pajamas and headed for the door. “Not that I don’t like it, but your type is still too hardcore for me. Enjoy yourselves!” He disappeared into the darkness before he finished his sentences.

“Ugh, don’t give a damn, he’s a hypocrite.” Mikaela rolled her eyes. “You guys need some lube?” She offered kindly.

“It’ll be more than appreciated.” Ironhide replied as he restrained the struggling Crosshairs, nosing his blunt spike head at his port.

Mikaela headed for the closet where all the daily maintenances are located. She picked a bottle and a box of lube sticks and casted them up onto Ironhide’s berth. “Enjoy.” 

“What? There’s a show again?” Agent Simmons appeared out of the blue, he’s _never_ been absent once ever since he learned that the Autobots, especially Ironhide, didn’t seem to mind if the humans watched as they interface. “Aww, look at that piece of spike, _beautiful!_ ” His eyes was almost glistening in excitement.

“Lewd.” Mikaela rolled her eyes again as she went back to her sofa.

“Mfffffff! **Let go of me!** _You pimp._ ” Crosshairs tried to pry open the servo muffling his intake, but the digits didn’t seem to yield the least bit.

“Jazz, ‘Cade, Dread’, or whoever, come and take his intake.” Ironhide demanded. 

The others looked flabbergasted, and Optimus Spoke up.

“Ironhide, I do not deem it proper now......” Optimus seemed embarrassed as he looked between Simmons and the struggling Crosshairs, and the erect spike glimmering with rings of bio-light. 

“Ha, Optimus, don’t worry, I _know_ his tempers, and I don’t give a damn who watches.” He winked at Optimus.

Optimus shook his helm as he went back to his berth. He gestured to Jazz and Barricade’s direction, telling them to go ahead.

“M’k ye _got_ this!” Jazz volunteered as his panels slid open. He stroked at his white spike with red patterns on its side before it stood up proudly at his pelvis.

He walked in front of Crosshairs, Ironhide smoothed himself up and entered him in a thrust, rocking deep at a moderate speed, platings rapping on his aft with metallic clashes. Crosshairs opened his intake wide to gasp for air before Jazz filled him down to the throat, placing another servo on the back of his helm and pushed it forward. 

“Tight!” Simmons’s cheered in rapture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't forget about this thread. ;)  
> And I'm gonna get it done right!


	19. Groundhog

He rebooted early in the morning before dawn. Motorhead’s thick arm was mounted on him, almost cutting off his breath, he had no idea how long he’d been under the weight but it must be deleterious to his health if he’d been staying like this for half the night like last time.

He couldn’t blame Motorhead for anything though, he just loved him too much and wouldn’t dream of harming him and he just tended to do anything that he deemed protective on Groundhog, sometimes even without his consent. And he’d been supportive of his every action he took through all the hardest times, like the one he is suffering right now.

His felt a little giddy when he stood up from the berth and his vision blurred, he couldn’t have rested well last night under that pressure. He headed for fueling room and grabbed a cube of cool high grade and slowly downed it, savoring the taste on his glossa. He loved plane Energon without any additives, Motorhead never seemed to agree with him on his predilection though, he adds spoons of Chromium trioxide on his Energon and enjoys it when it burns his glossa and denta slowly, leaving the spicy sensation in his intake, he would also binge on mercury sauce from time to time, and gain a terrible lot of weight from it, none of which was tolerable to him as a doctor.

But then again, thank Primus that he was a medic, who could maintain Motorhead’s well being even so.

This time, he just snickered when he remembered those moments when he hid all the treats away from his mate and confront his tantrum with reasons. 

He finished the last drop of his Energon before he went to check Thrust up.

His vitals were going smoothly according to Groundhog’s monitor, he was in one of the most cosy recharge Groundhog had ever seen, which was telling enough that he hadn’t done so for cycles.

He had grocery task to do today, and he better finish all of it before his run-time. Another unpleasant visit at the scrapyard immediately neighboring the Execution Center of Iacon, where deactivated Cybertronians would be sent to after their last moment, the frames would then be disintegrated and sorted out for spare parts on sale.

It was once so hard to purchase limb replacements or components like T-Cogs just months ago but now such things were just a credit for a dozen since hundreds of Decepticons are being executed every single day in the center, most of whom incriminated merely for being Decepticons during wartime. More frames were sent there from across the city, offlined from whatever colorful reasons.

He’d been a nice old patron there since the war ended, it’s something most medics would do and his abrupt appearance as an Autobot didn’t raise much doubt.

The only problem, if any, he had _never_ enjoyed going there as most legit Autobot medics did, and he wouldn’t this time, either.

He sighed, what other choices did he have? Thrust was heavily mutilated and needed his help, he had to live up to Thrust’s trust and his hard-established recognition among Decepticon fugitives.

This is the last and the least he could do for his comrades, he would stop being known by this planet as a doctor once no more Cons needed his help, as soon as this tumult ends, Groundhog is no more, wielding his wit, it wouldn’t be hard to start fresh as an Autobot all over again.

_If he cared to._

_If he could still manage to regroup his Race Track Patrol._

For the last time, he shook away his musings and left a note on the freezer.

_’Head, take care for Thrust, feed him if he wakes, love you!_

He unlocked the front door and tiptoed onto the yard, he turned back, looking at his dilapidated mini medical booth and sighed again. After latching the bolt in place again and making sure the door wouldn’t open easily, he walked onto lane in front of his place.

It was still dark outside, chilling solvent fogs dampened the world around him, boding another peaceful day of solar-light and laughters in Iacon city, as he always did before his grocery trips, he was eagerly anticipative to admire the breathtaking spectacles of the Autobot capital sitting on the very throne of Cybertron at its acme of all times. Gushes of morning breeze imbued with hints of mingled rust and Energon scents brushed against his warm metals and platings, leaving kisses of icy sensations on his sensors, which cleared his processors and thoughts.

As quietly as he could, he transformed into his modified racer mode and headed down the alley.


	20. Ironhide

“Indeed he is.” Ironhide threw and arm into the air victoriously before he slapped the servo across Crosshairs’s aft, metal clashing together aloud as Crosshairs jerked forward to get away, only to be hindered by another servo on his abdomen. “What gives?” He asked Simmons half-jokingly, he wrote the program in his processor where he could guess what those confusing human languages mean.

”What? No, that’s just another earth slang.” Simmons reciprocated his tacit jibe, much to his delight.

”You humans are brilliant.” He commented as he hasted up his pace, aft jolting back and forth in an refined pattern, his upper body nearly motionless as his pelvis was rocking hard, his broad ventral platings perfect protected the injured back. “He _does_ need this, he little port hasn’t been this refusing for cycles!”

He could feel Simmons’s hot gaze riveted on where he and the sniper was joint but he didn’t care the least bit, he knew his mate too well, this would be exactly what he wanted.

Crosshairs’s protesting words were slurred and whimpers were muffled by Jazz’s spike in his intake. Then his optics offlined for some reason as his entire frame stiffened and spasmed when Ironhide pressed his groin on Crosshairs’s aft and wiggled his own aft.

“How would you tell if he wanted this? I mean, isn’t it kind of rash?” Simmons’s question barged in.

“C’mon! Not cool, _after_ you watched them? What are you thinking?” Mikaela rolled over on her couch and glared at Simmons.

Ironhide didn’t mind at all. “Jazz would have lost his dick if it is.” He withdrew his spike from the port and sat upright, his servos remained on Crosshairs back to brace it, and he eyed Jazz, who was pushing Crosshairs’s helm deep down his spike. “Good job, Jazz! Look how he’s occupied! Come here when he finishes.” He tapped his digits on his thigh. “Ride me, with your juicy little pussy.” 

“He’s got tha’ right there fer ye!” Jazz patted at Crosshairs’s helm and sped up, pressing the helm onto the berth using one servo and thrusted deeper, his other servo entered his own folds to make things faster, when he overloaded, Crosshairs gulped down his load eagerly before the Spec Ops withdrew, pulling threads of pre-transfluid and lubricant as well as the slimy sound. 

”No! No! No!” Crosshairs began rebelling as soon as finished swallowing everything in his intake. Ironhide knew his being sulky is just the way the paratrooper demands for more care.

”’till a lil cranky, c’mon, Imma give ye this” Jazz bent over and corked up Crosshairs’s intake with his, glossa caressing the pushy lips to gain access. His faceplate pressed against Crosshairs’s ventrals, suffocating him enough to gag his words.

Ironhide’s Spark spun wildly as Jazz ended the kiss slowly with a smirk before his glossa began exploring down his frame while Crosshairs was inhaling deep and harsh for air exchange. 

“Keep that on, Jazz, give me a show and I gotta work on myself a little bit, the little whore is too needy today, I’m not sure if he can keep his next one before I come.” He began stroking his own spike, his spark wasn’t running steadily as he couldn’t keep his worries about the paratrooper away, and he fabricated reasons inside his emotional processor for him to be more aroused than disturbed, he knew his mate needs this, clarifications and lectures can always come later, in a more effective way when the corvette has his edge off.

He observed from the edge of his optical feedback as Agent Simmons reached down the crotch of his britches, he’d never seen what a human looked like down there and he just wondered.

Jazz continued mapping out the grooves and crests on Crosshairs’s platings, glossa meandering at his abdomen before the plates beneath it slid open with a clash, revealing his throbbing folds.

Jazz looked as if he wasn’t aware of what happened, still licking and kissing his groin, he would reach the front node if he moved a seam further.

But it still seemed too far, and it never came before Jazz stopped and stood up.

Dissatisfied, Crosshairs writhed and groaned, movements restricted by Ironhide’s strong servos.

”Nah, patience matters, n’ tha rest is fer him!” Jazz symbolically teased the node with his digits, Crosshairs stiffened and spread his legs wide open to approve of more access.

”Don’t just hog on my berth, gotta move it! Sit here, and get what you want.” Ironhide stopped stroking and slapped his own thighs again.

Crosshairs did as he was told, his spike covered in warmth when Crosshairs sank down on his length. The paratrooper began jogging as he whimpered in pleasure, his caliper clenching and chaffing, bringing him the sensation he’d missed for too long. In the entire process, Ironhide aided him up and down with his strong servos behind the sniper in case he stretches his back.

They finally overloaded in sync, his audials flooded with the thrumming sound, what he could still hear was the sniper’s moaning when his valve clenched the last time before his frame went lax in Ironhide’s cuddle. 

Ironhide was glad that his mate was well satisfied and protected, whatever processor-wash that could have transpired at Sentinel’s place, Crosshairs was always his mech.

”You know what’s more to you for me than a slut?” Ironhide gently laid the languid corvette on the berth and laid by his side, one are bracing his helm. 

He watched as Crosshairs’s was defeated by his fatigue and slipped into recharge.   
  


Everything would get to the bottom tomorrow, and he will help the poor thing out no matter what.


	21. Sentinel Prime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Opening up a new era!

"They are sending him, all clear." One of his guards ended up a comm and relayed the progress to him.

"My mechs always know their part.” He put the bottle with High-Grade down on the table before he entered his berth room, where five of his friends were waiting.

”Mechs, stretch your gears, we got a new asset for our specific need tonight.” He picked a chair, sat down, and crossed his pedes. “We’ve still got a couple of minutes, cheers.” He pulled out a rerouter from his subspace and plugged it in his data port, the same old tingling sensation in his systems slowly took over his processors and paralyzed his optical feed, brining him out from the dimensions, every ugly thought turned beautiful, even epic at the very moment and it felt glorious as usual.  
  
He didn’t need to see it when he knew his pals all began writhing in their respective sofa savoring the climax brought to them from the new round of rerouters he started, mechs in his place came to him for his power and an outlaw place for a reasonable price, which is whatever they’ve got on deposit and every inch of their frames. Nothing more, nothing less, as long as one is willing to shell out for what’s on the menu, which is more tempting than one can imagine if he had no idea what business Sentinel is running.

But it would be telling enough when one knows that the offer is coming in short supply on a ‘top rich, first serve’ basis, getting several Autobot officials high up in the ranks involved. 

The place is totally hermetic when it comes to this business Sentinel holds, who would question the officials coming in and out of the very admin mansion of this planet otherwise when they themselves had so many matters to care for just after they walked out of the tailpipe of a million-year war? 

What nobot could even dream of, was some of their dear bosses, were being hookers inside and winners outside.

And Sentinel cherish this kind of nativity of his legions.

Speaking of which.

The gate to his berth slid down the second time when a guard escorted the cuffed asset in.

The latest Decepticon flyer mode, wide wings with the two purple insignias stood high up above the helm, his finish was well buffed and waxed, the creamy scent slowly sent out by his frame heat, two orbs of large, red optics halfway lidded when they looked at Sentinel with a sophisticated, seductive gaze, such merchandise could cost all, even of his properties these days, but not a credit when he’d got the right mech on his back.

What makes everything more than priceless was the fact that the seeker was a sparkling, helm merely to his knees.

He looked familiar, for a second Sentinel felt he had met him before, but he didn’t care to get his drugged processors run those memory files, all he needed was having fun right now, and he continue his career as the King afterwards.

”What’s your name, babe?” Sentinel smiled faintly to the flyer, servos preparing to reach out for him.

”Blade _wing_ s.” The seeker replied, stretching the word for the most arousing part of his frame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Believe me, I’m not insane. ;)


	22. Groundhog

It was a long way from suburb Iacon downtown, by the time he entered District Metropolis, the sun began to rise from the behind the skyscrapers in front of him, driving away the humidity that was condensing on his car mode.

He was not the lone driver enjoying the moment, when the sunlight scattered on the city runners, he could feel the joviality emitting from their shared fields.

::Morning mech! Nice finish today!:: One strange Autobot racer sent him a public greeting through the EMF.

::Morning, you too!:: He always returned the kindness when someone like, even the Autobot tried to brighten his day, in Autobot frequency of course.

::Gonna be a nice day.:: The mech sighed and exclaimed at the rising sun.

::It sure is.:: Groundhog deleted the line of code to think about his errand today and replied.

::Bye, gotta turn.:: The Autobot drove off the main road down to a tunnel before he could reply.

::Bye:: He murmured through his field, hoping the other would receive it.

By the time he finally arrived at the Scrapyard, the sun had been burning his metals, the gate to the reception room slid down when he pulled over and transformed, sending him a burst of AC coolness, much to his solace.

“Hey! Buddy!” The Autobot at the counter set the datapads on his desk and stood up as he entered.” Some High?”

“It’s fine, I’m good.” Groundhog declined, he didn’t intend to stay at this place filled with frame parts from his comrades. “Red, I’m on a rush today, two prostheses and a cockpit, other things like optics and Spark braces......”

“Ha! You’re at the right place the right time.” Red Alert handed a data pad to Groudhog. “Check it out, new batches sorted out just now, real bargains but legit good stuffs, all from Cons if you don’t mind.” 

He gulped down his fear and opened the menu.

Helm wares:  
Optics:  
Price Resolution IRT function/nm Static FL/cm Dynamic FL range/cm ......  
12/pc 200M 5000-15000 2.23 0.12-5.36  
10/pc 181M 6000-15000 2.24 0.12-5.40  
......

Audial Sensors:  
......

Groudhog quickly scanned the lengthy list, but still didn’t manage to keep calm and made a sob.

“What’s wrong? Hey! Grillie! You can talk to me!” Red Alert’s voice became soft and patter Groundhog’s back and stoked his door wings soothingly, it felt even more terrible to keep Red in the dark and he really wanted to share his true identity and stories right now.

But that’s something that could never happen in the rest of his functioning.

If he didn’t want to be on the list he’s holding on his servos.

He felt like a coward, using his comrades for his job like this, even though he still saved hundreds of Cons after the war.

Maybe the war had never ended, maybe this is what his comrades in the Well would want.

Once again, he defeated he negative thoughts and focus on the business at hand. “Oh, no, nothing, it’s okay, I had some words with my mate, I can handle it.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” Red Alert looked genuinely distressed as Groudhog was.

Speaking of which.

A mech entered the office pushing a cart of six corpses, two of them were flyers and completely gray and motionless. A triple-changer was also gone, that leaves three grounders, and Groundhog once again broke the balance in his spark as he saw the two of the grounders haven’t been deactivated properly as their dull frames were squirming softly from the extreme pain after their underdose of euthanasia.

“Oh, primus, for crying out loud.” Red Alert threw his arms apart. “Can’t they just finish their business before they send them here?” 

“The Center is running out of drugs, sir, it should be over in a few days.” The mech parked the cart inside and prepared to leave.

“Tell them we are running out of space and dissection drones!” Red Alert yelled as the door slid up.

“You know what? I hate to do this.” Red Alert picked out a long cutter from his subspace and walk to the two writhing Decepticons. “It hurts even when they are Cons.”

The blade cut through the pipelines on one of the Con’s neck, Energon splashed onto Red’s frame as the Con’s infirm frame struggled. Red Alert pinned the grounder down on the cart in case too much of the liquid squirted to the ground, his determined optics riveted on the wall as he did this, not looking at the off-lining Con.

“Then stop!” Groundhog couldn’t take any of this anymore, he’d been watching three other deactivated this way last time while he did nothing, it made him feel everything he did as a medic meaningless.

He couldn’t blame Red Alert though it’s not the nicest way to kill a dying mech, he had to keep the valuable parts like the processors intact.

“What? I know......but I have to do this, I’d be doomed if the cops find functioning Cons here, please, Grillie!” Red was nearly broken when someone interrupted his process.

“I’ll have them all, I mean all there corpses, a load off your shoulder isn’t it? I can deal with this back at my place, it’ll be less painful.”

“Grillie, I’m not sure......”

“Nobot will find out, the cops can’t go through all the heaps of spare parts and your record.” Groudhog walked toward the cart.

“Fine, just go, then it’s for free, I can’t make records, thanks.” Red Alert went inside for a large sheet of tarp and hooded the cart. “Good luck.”

“You too!” Groudhog hastily grabbed the handle and pulled the trolly outside the place.

He walked off the busy sidewalk down into a quiet alley. 

He performed a quick circumspection and nobot was near before he produced a syringe from his subspace.

“Hope this would work.” He lifted the sheet and injected the chemical into the only mech in function and covered the cart again.

He drove on the most secluded path back home with the large covered block hinged on his rear.


	23. Groundhog

Groundhog could literally feel a mini-jet in his tanks when he pulled over in front of his house.

”Hey! Babe, you’re back!” As usual, Motorhead appeared at the door to greet him when he heard his engine. “Oh, that’s a lot, you need help?” He began walking towards him.

Groundhog leaped and transformed in a second, arms protectively covering the cart. “Nonono! Not here, we gotta get this inside.”

”Ok.” Motorhead was as credulous and obedient as he had been so far, he walked up and helped Groundhog dragged the large bulk through that tiny door.

”Umm, that way, get this into the warehouse.” He pointed to the even smaller door next to his wards.

”You can’t get this through that.” Motorhead shook his helm to Groudhog. “What’s in it, though?” His becoming curious butter thew Groundhog’s Spark into the pit, he really didn’t want his loved one to see this but he didn’t seem to have any other choices.

”Well, it won’t be comfortable when you see this so be prepared, I’m sorry.” He asserted grimly, Motorhead nodded doubtfully before Groundhog uncovered the cart.

”Ooowh, damn it.” Motorhead covered his optics with his servos and turned away for a long moment. “Sweetspark, you know you don’t need to put yourself through this, you’re gonna dream about those bad things again!” It wasn’t until a minute later that he finally pulled himself together and looked at the corpses again.

”I’m so sorry that you’re scared, I really didn’t mean to.” Groudhog’s blue optics was at the verge of leaking. “There’s a survivor and I can’t just leave him there.”He looked at the recharging grounder, still affected by his spark stabilizing injection.

”It’s okay, let’s move on.” Motorhead put his servos akimbo and proceeded. “So standard care for the lucky one?” Groudhog inquired. 

“Yeah, and how’s Thrust doing?” It suddenly occurred to him.

”Oh, he rebooted just now and I gave him some Energon, he’s been on and off since then, he’ll be fine.” Motorhead confirmed, much to Groudhog’s relief. A part of him admired the sharpness when his mate is determined to learn something from him so that he could make a good medical assistant, and obviously he learned so fast.

”Thank you, Motorhead! For everything.” He threw his arms around Motorhead’s neck, and landed a kiss on his lip plates.

”You’re welcome!” His red optics looked so deep at the moment, rings and layers of delicate optical structures within them displayed at a perfect angle when they looked into his blue ones, the different components were arranged in a subtle pattern, revealing his bewildering love in his spark, dedicated for nobot else in this universe but Groundhog.

“Gotta work, I’ll frag you later, you can count on that.” He dismissed the cuddle, raising a digit towards him and gibed as he sensed Groundhog’s arousal in his field.

Groundhog smiled as he watched his much loved mate walk into the ward with the survivor in his arms, ever since he met him, everything was much easier.

He had some trouble moving the blocky triple-changer around but he got onto taking apart those frames before long, it was a gruesome process but Groundhog decided to be stronger for his mate. And fortunately he got the exact cockpit and limbs he needed from one of the fliers.

When he finally disengaged the last piece of speech processor from a helm, he crouched by the large jumble of useless wires and pipes as well as the full lockers of meticulously sorted collection of components, and sighed deeply, _thank Primus it didn’t take him long enough for his mate to become nosy of what’s going on in this warehouse._

He soothed himself by entertaining the thought that the five mechs were back at the form of their very nature.

_Like they’d never existed._

_No, like they would watch, as a member of the Allspark, that new sparks shall be endowed to their frames, under the wills of all Primus new functionings shall begin._

_Till all are one._ He prayed with his spark before he stood up with a cockpit and two arms, he didn’t forget to get those wings either.

He walked back to the ward, where Thrust had been fully awake watching hologram TV.

”Oh, primus, that’s too much, thank you, doc!” Thrust’s optics dilated in surprise when he saw what was in Groundhog’s servos.

“Don’t call me doc, and don’t thank me.” Groundhog interrupted before Thrust could finish. “Our comrades gifted these to you at the cost of their sparks.”

Thurst prayed silently, just as what Groundhog did, optics lidded.

For a moment room was silent, only functional beeps from his equipments were audible.

”Ok, now we shall begin, I’m gonna put you under.” Groundhog finally announced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actually, a world like this is capable of changing anybot.


	24. Sentinel Prime

“That’s a beautiful name, especially for a Decepticon flyer like you.” Sentinel rubber at his interface panels. “Great job, Siren, you’re just the mech I needed.”

”It’s my honor, sir.” Siren dared not look into his optics and stammered. “I...I assume we still hold the deal?”

Sentinel’s laughter was as deafening as a roaring Dinobot. “You’ve got a good memory cell!” He added slowly after he calmed down.

Siren’s face petrified.

”Owww, don’t sulk like that, all right?” Sentinel patted at Siren’s back. “I never broke a promise, did I?” He looked as the other mechs nodded. “Let’s enjoy our functionings first, shall we?”

Siren nodded nervously.

“So, sweetie, you know why you’re here, now would you tell me again? Cause I never had a good memory like he does.” He mocked.

“Let’s do bar-in-port first?” Bladewings looked indecisive when he continued. “Then I can suck your spikes with my little intake.”

”Hmm, that sounds like a great plan.” He slammed the back of his helm. “How could I forget?”

”Idiot.” A murmur escaped Bladewings, who was apparently impatient about the game to come.

”Um, sorry? What did you just say?” Fury was ignited in his spark, and burnt like the pit.

Bladewings remained as silent as Sentinel’s friends were, who almost stopped venting. His optics insubordinately refused to make contact with Sentinel’s.

”What.Did.You.Just.Say?!!” He slowly stood up from his couch and approached the seeker, the latter winced, optics observing his pede steps warily.

”I’m sorry, master, I didn’t mean it, _please_!” When the little jet’s optics finally lifted and met with his, they were already dampened with lubricant, his voice was frail and shaky.

His barbaric instinct was turned on in a second on seeing the two orbs of red, unquellable desire to torture and kill filled his spark, and was incredibly arousing when combined with what the seeker said about tonight’s activities.

He laughed like a monster again before he launched his left pede on the sparkling, it’s tip landed on Bladewings’s jaw and warped it into a creepy angle.

The sparkling screamed in pain and landed on the floor after the impact, Energon trickled from his ripped intake.

”Ha! Look at that, nice kick, isn’t it?” Sentinel turned to his friends, who all stood up and gulped in anxiety. “He can’t suck spikes anymore, isn’t that what he wants?” His friends nodded in tandem.

The seeker tried again and again, but his intake wouldn’t close properly, he was so distracted that he wasn’t prepared when another kick landed on his wing basis.

”Yeeeeeeah!” Sentinel cheered at those half detached wings as he watched the sparkling squirmed on the floor, he couldn’t make a single sound with his broken intake but his glistening red optics were enough telling of what torment he was suffering. His frame and the ground around was covered by his leaked Energon.

”Let’s smear every single drop in you on my carpet, I like how it looks.” It was when his arm blade transformed that a friend of his walked up. “Sir, please, don’t deactivate him.”

”Shut up, you!” He roared to the the helping mech. “It’s not you that the little whore disrespected!”

”Sir, he’s right, he doesn’t deserve this.” Despite the tension of such situation, Siren crossed his spark and spoke up.

It was a long and eerie silence that ensued Siren’s statement, Siren’s Spark spun uncontrollably.

”So you’re telling me......my authority does not even deserve a little Con, did I get it wrong?” He felt more furious than ever in his functioning but he managed to make his voice balanced. “So you think I’m an idiot, too.”

”Sorry, sir, I didn’t mean that.” Siren recoiled as Sentinel walked towards him.

”You.Slagging.Did!” The blade went through his midsection, Energon immediately began welling from his penetrated tanks.

”S.....sir, it’s.......f.....or, y....your......good.” Siren talked with what’s left of his energy level before he should be forced into stasis. “M....echs.....will....will....know......wh....when.....they....see the....frame.”

The other friends covered their intakes in shock when they saw the blade went through Siren, when he finished the sentence, his frame went into stasis on Sentinel’s weapon. 

For the third time, Sentinel’s nasty laughter broke the dead silence.

“Get out! All of you!” He yelled at his friends after his pulled his blade out from Siren, the latter dropped and formed a lax heap on the ground.

It took his panicking friends a while to get both the seeker and Siren out from his room, he slipped another rerouter into his data port and enjoyed the sublime moment, forgetting what just happened just now, when the orgasm came to him, the codes that he was a merciful leader who spared two sparks was ran in his processor, the false sense of being in possession of immense power was rationalized and scaled up by the drug’s effect. He overloaded in content, he was the greatest leader of the universe, oblivious to the chaos outside his mansion.

”Oh, damn, Siren’s stabbed!” Wheeljack whispered to his mate when he saw the group exiting the mansion.

”Primus, the bastard!” Ratchet transformed into his ambulance mode and drove out from their shelter. 

When he ‘happened’ to drive by just outside the mansion yard, he could hear mechs sigh in relief.

”This is what we call blind luck! Hey, doc, Doc, stop, mechs down!” They called out to him, much to his disgruntlement but he decided that the epithet was something for another day.

”Calling in Iacon Central Hospital, injured mechs to be admitted in five minutes.” He faked the call so that the mechs could hear. “Put that sparkling in me and the other on top, ASAP!” He opened his rear door for them.

It wasn’t remotely standard medical procedures to put an injured mech on top of a medic but thank Primus it didn’t raise any doubt since the mechs knew less than Ratchet could imagine.

He and Wheeljack rendezvoused at a covert alley crossing and drove back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s something ‘fishy’ about Bladewings, isn’t it? ;)  
> For Breaking Bad lovers, Sentinel felt terribly a lot like Tuco Salamanca, dunno if it’s proper or not, critics welcome!


	25. Groundhog

Groundhog nodded and laid there obediently as Groundhog went to his medical cabinet for the correct type of anesthetic he needed, Groundhog sighed when he sensed the unbridled excitement in Thrust’s field even after the solemn ritual. However, he couldn’t really blame anyone in his position.

So far, so good.

And everything happened just in a matter of seconds.

It started with the anomalous beep of all the monitoring equipments connected to Trust’s frame before Groundhog dropped the syringe in his servos and turned around.

Thrust completely went rogue as his mutilated frame jolted on the berth and tore the needles and pipes out before he fell to the ground on one side and started screaming.

” _No! No! No!_ **He’s gone, HE’S REALLY GONE! Why? WHY?”** His optics kept faltering at whatever agony he’s experiencing. “ _Why do you have to do this?_ ” His moaned and that’s Groundhog made out from his literally unintelligible babble.

“Hey, hey, mech, calm down.” Groundhog picked up the syringe walked towards his patient on the ground.

” _Get away! I have to go! And find him!”_ His red optics was full of monstrous malice and defense when he saw the syringe in Groundhog’s servo.

Motorhead broke into this ward just in time, and Groundhog made good use of this opportunity and commanded.

”He went haywire, help me put him down.” He pushed out the air in his syringe.

”Will do.” Motorhead walked directly towards the yelling Thrust on the ground. With a single grip of his servo, he controlled the legs and his upper frame with another.

”How dare you!” Thrust struggled desperately but the strong servos locking him didn’t budge the least bit.

Then the needle slipped into a fuel line on his neck, his frame went numb in seconds.

”Phew!” Groundhog rubbed at the lubricant on his fore helm. “Thanks, and help me get him back up.”

”Yeah.” He and groundhog worked together until Thrust was placed properly on the mattress and all the wires are re-attached. 

Motorhead grabbed a chair and sat down in the corner. “The new comer is stabled, no contingencies.”

He nodded and quickly set down to his work.

For an experienced medic like him, attaching all the four parts took him less than thirty minutes, what he enjoyed the most was when he watched those limbs turned from grey to whatever color that suited Thrust’s frame, at least the mechs who offered them didn’t deactivate in vain.

He grabbed another chair and sat beside Motorhead, who watched the entire operation and took notes in his processors.

”That was a nice job!” Motorhead remarked. “My little processor barely followed.” He pointed at his own helm sarcastically while his deep, scarlet optics were locked on Groundhog.

”Thank you, and such operations are indeed complex if one watches for his first time, even the most able-processored mechs, I’m glad that you learned something.” Groundhog regifted the credit before he noticed how his mate was looking at him with overwhelming affection.

For what seemed as long as a cycle, they just looked into each other’s optics, arousal grew exponentially in Groundhog’s spark.

”You look so pretty even with those blue optics!” Motorhead broke the silence and landed a kiss on Groundhog’s lip plates.

”So?” Groundhog’s frame was trembling in excitement after the kiss, for the promise his mate gave him, a promise that he could count on. His valve began clenching in anticipation for contact.

”You want it hard and rough or slow and romantic?” Motorhead asked.

”Same old fashion!” His processors ceased functioning in arousal.

”Ok, listen up, get to that berth of mine and open up your slushy valve for me.” He made a series of command like a general, which Groundhog eagerly followed without a single word. “I’ll be there in a minute, you better be playing with yourself when I do, and dare you disobey a rule, like sucking anything without my permission, I’ll frag you into stasis, am I understood?”

”Yes, sir!” Groundhog replied when he ran towards their berthroom.

* * *

Motorhead calmed his mind and browsed through his note for one last time and stood up. He slowly walked towards the inner chamber where Groundhog was, allowing him to prepare himself and get all desperate and needy.

”Attention!” He the door slid down and he yelled into the room. “Wow!”

”Sir!” Groundhog replied as he pushed the toy deeper into his valve and moaned.

“Get that out and use mine instead.” Motörhead’s plates slid open, his spike immediately pressurized.

”Yes, sir!” Groundhog’s optics were burning when he looked at the thick length shining with bio lights. He pulled the toy out in no time and offlined his optics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two threads finally mingled. :D


	26. Siren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So let’s see what exactly was the deal on their table.

For an entire minute, the room was dead silent, even the trivial noise produced by the dripping Energon was clearly heard. 

“Hey, you two, put’em down.” Siren hissed to his subordinates.

”But sir, he’s......” Horsepower started to protest before Siren interrupted.

” **Just put’em down!** ” His augmented his voice towards his guards before his gaze landed back on Wheeljack, whose sapphire optics was burning in furor. “Now would you please?”

Wheeljack watched as the two cops behind siren warily lowered their weapons, he sighed and sat back to his own couch, his cannon still powered and aimed at Siren.

”Well, as far as I know, they are safe and sound.” He paused as he saw Wheeljack rolled back his optics in relief, letting out a long ex-vent. He grinned and continued. “They’re currently on earth, I believe they didn’t inform you on this matter.”

”Huh.” Wheeljack’s arm transformed back. “I’d be surprised if they were on anywhere else.” He is optics was busy observing the dribbling liquid, the air was infused with sweetness from it and was more than tempting. “But why? I mean what had they been doing all this time? I know there’s no such thing as ‘Government Mission’” 

Siren snickered and replenished those toppled goblets with High-Grade. He pushed one to Wheeljack’s way and down ed the one in his servo at once. “I bet you know Middle Iacon Pound and how that place works, if your purchasing Bladewings is anything to go by.”

”Yeah, that’s not somewhere I wanna visit twice, it’s not fair to treat them like that even if they’re Cons!” Wheeljack’s voice was assertive as if he had forgotten the topic on his team.

”No wonder you work for Optimus!” Siren smirked again. “Your team feel exactly the same way as you do, so they saved a whole bunch of Cons, like Barricade or Dreadbot, but sometimes they push the boundaries too much and pissed off Sentinel so the chase began, one they could never win here on Cybertron, so they fled.” Siren threw his arms apart and shrugged. “Rumor said that Sideswipe and Sunstreaker even got linked with the Stunticons!” He filled up another shot and swilled it down.

“What? Sunny and Sides? Why?” Wheeljack’s curiosity became more needy than his worries. 

“Who knows? Maybe it’s just some jape among us cops but if it’s true, there must be pretty reasons.” Siren was about to start his third round before he noticed Wheeljack’s glass was still untouched. “Please be my guest on that, I know it’s been hard for you.”

Wheeljack sighed and carefully lifted the container filled up to the brim and took a sip so that it wouldn’t easily spill in his servos, it could be clearly heard that his systems were buzzing in celebration for the award that their owner decided to refuel them with after another long day. “Hmm, not bad.” His attempt to remain collected was so obvious.

Siren just snickered before he continued. “Anyway, let’s cut to our topic.” He refilled Wheeljack’s cup and settled the bottle down. “I know exactly what you would think about Sentinel now, it’s because of him that your team was fleeing across the universe and I just so happened to be in charge of their arrest, and all I have done so far was making their escape possible.” Siren downed another one after boasting his contribution for the team.

“Huh, thanks.” Wheeljack retorted sarcastically.

”But you know I did a sloppy job to deliberately let my end down so Sentinel is taking it out on my patrol team.” He signature to his teammates. “But he started with my spark-sibling, Nightbeat you know, he wasn’t that well off and ended up being a hooker on Sentinel’s properties and I can’t do anything about that.”

”You mean Sentinel is pimping your brother as your punishment?” Wheeljack was incredulous.

”It’s much worse than that.” Siren’s optics dampened. “He had a choice back in those day we were both working at investigation department and he was a nice detective.” He paused as a drop of lubricant slid down his faceplate and he almost instantly wiped it away it was a long moment before he finally contained his melancholy. “Sorry, it’s just, Sentinel ran this little offer that he could be in charge of any suspended cases as long as he sold his frame out, all my preachings just fell on deaf audials since the decoy just sounded a bit too luring for him......” Siren buried his face in his servos and began crying.

”I’m so sorry about that.” Wheeljack’s apathy was melted a little bit as his optics shone in softer blue.

”When it turned out, he did get the cases he want but his functioning...... he’s basically held captive after work and fragged over and over with mechs I don’t even know, it drained him out so fast that he passed out at work, and I can’t even be by his side during all this time......” Siren’s frame was trembling when he uttered the final revelation. “And after what I’ve done for you team Sentinel is threatening me with his deactivation.”

”So _how exactly_ can I help you?” Wheeljack didn’t forget to be pragmatic on his emotional roller coaster.

”Sentinel deactivated his last slave Ramjet several weeks ago, and needs a new one.” Siren inhaled deeply. “And I will give him one to let go of my brother.”

Wheeljack’s optics dilated to their widest setting, the room was silent for an entire minute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe this is where another two lines are intertwined.


	27. Wheeljack

“So.” His compassion for Siren lingered above his spark before it was gone. “Whatever you are needing from me is out of the question, I’d like to help but I’m sorry.”

”I’m here with a deal, remember? And you won’t refuse that.” Siren states calmly.

” **Nothing.Will.Ever.Happen.To.Bladewings.And.I-Beam.”** His protectiveness toward his children was steering him towards blasting the whole team into pieces with his arm cannon but he cleared his mind a bit this time, he’d like to refrain from another standoff too. “You gotta get through me first, you understand? It’s not gonna be as easy as you think so you better go to that Pound and get one yourself for your purpose.”

”Uh, but you misunderstand.” Siren began to explain. “Sentinel has gone without his personal servant for weeks, if any of the leftovers still purchasable could make him satisfied, why would I bother bugging you and come with this leverage?”

”Please just get out of my house right now if you plan to be functioning after tonight.” However, he didn’t transform his cannon while his tone was adamant.

”Please don’t talk like that.” Siren arranged his posture on his couch. “Here, you got a retainer, your mechling has no problem going to the Academy as long as he doesn’t alter his optics himself. Two actually, I shouldn’t have given you any information about your team according to protocols.” He watched as Wheeljack became dumbfounded.

”What’s the point? He’s gonna be _deactivated_ anyway if I accepted that!” He was becoming gradually impatient.

”You’re the mech with your processor and status, I’m just nothing so I need your help, Bladewings isn’t necessarily going to a sacrifice if you have any plans. But he’s bound to be involved because I know from my part that it is the most effective way to get my brother saved, and I’ve told Sentinel about that so......”

”You bastard!” Wheeljack stood up from his couch. “Get out!” He pointed at the door.

”Think about it.” Siren patted at Wheeljack’s shoulder plates before he and his teammates reached the door before it slid down automatically. “You’ve got a week, but Blades’s first day at Academy starts tomorrow!” They disappeared behind the door and everything was silent again.

He slumped into his couch and stared at the bottle of unfinished Hi on the table.

He really wanted to gulp the entire bottle down to numb himself before he suddenly realized that his younglings were still waiting for him in the berthroom.

* * *

I-Beam was apparently soundly recharging but Bladewings flipped over when Wheeljack carefully entered the room, the pair of red optics in the dark looked into his with anticipation for company. 

Wheeljack decided that he shouldn’t and needn’t let the little Con keep his optics blue during recharge time, after all it was more comfortable to stay the way he was.

He laid between his sparklings, just as the night yesterday and Bladewings wrapped his arms around Wheeljack’s midsection immediately. 

Wheeljack checked seeker’s field, but it was guarded, apparently Blades was afraid of something but Wheeljack didn’t force his way inside, instead, he bent and kissed the little helm. “Why aren’t you recharging, sweetie?”

”No, nothing, I’m just afraid in the dark.” He paused long enough as if he was gathering courage. “Am I really going to Academy tomorrow?”

Wheeljack’s frame stiffened.

_He heard everything?_


	28. Groundhog

“That looks nice, you did a great job slicking yourself up, Hoggy!” Motorhead’s desiring red gaze was roaming on his arrays, which is nearly dripping with his own lubricant. “I guess there’s no need for an exploration today.”

”No, sir, please penetrate me with your thick and powerful spike, I want to be filled with your transfluid......” He wasn’t good at talking dirty like this but he did his best to arouse his mate, he really wanted this, his processors were poisoned in the nasty process of his dissecting all those five mechs, for a fugitive who never relied on drugs, interfacing with his mate until he’s too tired to keep his optics online is the best was to take his edge off.

The blunt head of Motorhead’s spike connected with his plush folds, he squirmed and pushed himself towards it.

Thank Primus Motorhead didn’t do the yielding prank again and now the thickest part was buried inside him, it was overwhelming and he groaned, Motorhead was more than helping when he bent over and gently pushed forward until the head reached his ceiling. Their lip-plates contacted just the moment he began panting coarsely.

Their kiss lasted for something like five minutes and, with his mate inside him, it was a surreal surging feeling of love and belonging at this moment when the world has long abandoned them.

Motorhead started thrusting in and out, his well nourished and developed frame pinned him down tightly on the mattress, the berth truss creaked every time he pushed deep inside, Groundhog was afraid it would collapse.

However, his processors were demanding him to focus and enjoy the hard earned time with Motorhead.

Motorhead’s chest-plates shifted away, revealing his spinning spark beneath, he was mesmerized by the bright healthy orb of blue of his most loved mate. It was radiating heat to its surroundings and the heat was grazing on Groundhog’s metals, enticing him to open up but another realization made him flinch.

”Motor, are you sure?” He whispered.

”I am, I want a cute little sparkling with you.” was Motorhead’s candid reply.

Groundhog couldn’t agree more if that’s what his darling wanted, he released the lock to his spark chamber and he was slowly opening up but the keen bemoaning from the ward beat him to it again.

” **AAAAH! No, Rammy! Don’t leave me alone, I can’t, I CAN’T!”**

“What’s going on?” Motorhead was so agile lifting himself from Groundhog and closed his chamber. “You didn’t tell me he’s severed?” He sounded somehow accusative.

”I...I planned to after we finish, but his dose wore off too fast.” He closed his interface panels and got back on his pedes. “Talk not, work!”

Motorhead firmly nodded and depressurized his spike in seconds, then they headed to the ward together and found the drowsy Thrust on the ground again.


	29. Wheeljack

So he heard every single word of the conversation, even Siren’s last few at the farthest side of the house before he left.

He shouldn’t have been surprised though, young as he is, he’s a war-framed seeker, his audials aren’t there for nothing.

And it was then that every single detail about their unpleasant discourse began nagging his processors, he could imagine what kind of trauma Blades must have gone through when they were talking about his demise, when his functioning was played as one of the gamble chips between the despicable enforcers and Optimus’s old foe, who aligned with the Decepticons during war time, just to turn everything against them, bereaving them of their rights to survive as sparks with dignity.

He was sickened, greatly distraught at the same time when he thought about Siren, what would he himself do, if he were in the enforcer’s position?  
  
But it was his brother Nightbeak they were talking about, words about the spy come out from many mechs, his processors are designed and trained to inspect and decrypt, and that would mean his well-functioning wouldn’t always come the first place. Siren was just putting on a show with his drippy optics, he should know the detective better, and try to accept whatever he does, that’s what brothers do, right? and if Nightbeak wasn’t a professional pleasure-drone in the sack, how would Sentinel stoop so low as to procure him, he just deserved it!

He was mortified by what he was thinking, after all, non of his consanguinea was pimped by anybot else and......

”Dad?”

Bladewings’s soft voice interrupted his train of thought, he lowered his helm and met with the mechling’s bright crimson optics, for a brief second Wheeljacked studied their structures out of curiosity, two metal chips lidded the top margins, the optical ridges slightly slanted downward to both sides, the maroon inner photosensitive layers beneath the lenses folded and arranged into darker stripes across the optic spheres to their posteriors, the shutters slightly contracted when the blue light from Wheeljack’s optics shone into his.

He’d never seen a Decepticon’s optics from this close before, prevalent as the rumor was, where Decepticons aren’t capable of emotions, what Wheeljack was seeing was thick woe, mingled within the overwhelming amount of trust he wasn’t sure if he could handle. 

And nobot could say no to such a pair of optics.

”It’s up to you.” He really wished the seeker would decline so that he would get some buffer time to consider the deal.

”I want to......” The seeker paused before he locked down his field completely, his optics shifted sheepishly.

_Nothing will happen to Bladewings, they have to get through Wheeljack first._

”Look, you will if you want to, nobot is going to harm you for that and daddy will always make you safe, you trust daddy, don’t you?” 

The seeker nodded his helm firmly, but his field was still in lockdown. There’s something on Blades’ mind that he’d rather not share with even his trusted one, however, out of full respect for the Seeker’s privacy, Wheeljack, was eager to know because he was terrified of what was probably gnawing at the poor sparkling’s immature processors.

::If you don’t mind, tell me what’s on your mind?:: He sent the message in several different Decepticon frequencies, and stroked the back of the seeker’s helm with his palm encouragingly.

No response, whether the little Con wasn’t familiar with these frequencies it or he decided not to reply.

::I understand what you feel after hearing what I and Siren talked about, but you also need to know that adult mechs are always saying things that they didn’t mean, especially the enforcers.:: He broadened his range, excluding I-Beam’s wavelength so that he wouldn’t accidentally wake him up.

Silence, and Wheeljack waited.

::Dad, it not just that. :: He picked up the distress signal from the seeker’s end.

::Anything, just tell me what it is, I’ll keep it between us.::

::It’s just......you just made me think about my guardians.:: The seeker’s frame tensed painfully at the thought. ::They are deactivated, but I don’t even know what they look like or their names, I missed them, and my links with them just feel terribly empty.:: He buried his helm in Wheeljack’s broad ventral platings, he felt warm streaks of lubricant slowly flowed down there.

He didn’t say anything to reply, the sparkling needs the peacefulness, he hugged the little Con closer to him, servos slowly stroking those protruding shoulder wings on his back.

He had guardians too, it was a memory that he’d rather not revisit, it was not wise for mechs forged during war to be linked to too many mechs, which would cause too much agony if anybot is deactivated, so after several years of parental rearing, he was manually isolated, which means physiologically he’s not linked to anybot else until he found his true love Ratchet.

He still remembered the day, when he was as young as the sparkling at his chest, after a Decepticon air strike subsided, his Sire and Carrier took him to a make-shift hospital, lying that it was just a regular check-up. It was excruciating when the strong magnet was placed before his spark chamber, he screamed and begged since it felt like his spark was being sucked out of him. 

He was then sent to Iacon Academy, which was a military boarding school back then, and had never seen his guardians again. Strangely enough, he never missed them, because of his tampered spark.

Millions of years had passed since then, his memory about his Sire and Carrier was reduced to two faint figures buried in all his memory files, he never bothered fumbling through the mess just to give them a peek.

It was already a terrifying feeling when his Spark isn’t linked anymore after the surgery, how about having two severed links swinging around?

Thus he made the decision, he hoped Ratchet would understand.

::Daddy loves you, Bladewings, do you want to link with this family? it will make you feel better.::

::Thanks dad, but...::

::Lemme tell you a story first:: He relayed his flashback about his childhood to the seeker, he listened with undivided attention.


	30. Groundhog

“Easy, Thrust, we understand that hurts.” He said as he hurriedly gathered all the medications he needed from his pantry and walked back into the wardroom, where Motorhead was helping the squirming mech back to his berth, obviously it was much harder with his new limbs this time, but his sparkmate still did a nice job holding him down. 

“You have to be strong, do you hear me? He will be watching you in the well of all sparks, and he wouldn’t like to see you like this. Always stand up straight for him, as a heroic warrior you are, do you understand?” He slipped the needle into one of the Energon pipes on the seeker’s neck, he panted nervously as he felt the sharp but brief pain and attempted to duck.

”Please, we are trying to calm you down, you are safe here, you will feel peaceful after this, it’s gonna be very nice, and you will tell us your story, ok?” Groundhog whispered into the seeker’s audials when he push the plunger, his ventilation slowed down as the drug started to take effect, but his face was still a typical one for mechs who just suffered severing.

”Tell us something about him, if you’d like to.” He grabbed Thrust’s new servos with his as he sat on the edge of the berth. Groundhog found his seat in the corner and sat there again. 

”It’s.......it’s Ramjet, he was deactivated just now.” It was as if it took all his Energon to enunciate those words. “I don’t feel him on that end, I don’t know where he was and was so troubled, but he just kept telling me that his master treated him like family and that he was better off even than before the war, and I learned to accept that piece of information though I found it doubtful, he told me about this medical bunker after my arms were shredded, it was him that exhorted me from giving up all this time, I thought we were to regroup but all of a sudden......he’s just gone.” 

”Thrust, we are so sorry for your loss, but remember that his bless is always with you, that he hopes you to move on, maybe he might not be by your side anymore but his spark would be content to find you well. May him Rest In Peace in the well of all sparks, and his eternal bestowal protect you, till all are one.” He didn’t know Ramjet quite well, and he didn’t know his whereabouts either, but for the first time in so long, his preaching was from spark.

”Till all are one.” Ramjet slowly alleged.”But please, if you can, please isolate my spark.” 

“We can, but you have to be clear about the consequences, then we won’t try to hinder you.” He consolingly squeezed the digits in his servos.

Thrust looked hesitant and distracted, but he nodded anyway. “Umm....so what’s the charge, I’ve only got....” 

“Ahh, don’t worry, it’s for free, I never charge my comrades, that’s what most mechs come here for, and I suppose you would like to start fresh?” 

”What do you mean start fresh?”

”Well, if you do not wish to live down as a slave, we can change you into an Autobot or a neutral, you pick a new designation and you’re good to go, just some basic code mods and repaint, you’re still yourself afterwards, safe and sound.“

”Really? But isn’t it illegal, what if they find out?” Thrust looked intrigued, but extremely unsure as well.

”Unless you barge into a cop hive and beg them to believe you were a Con, even if you do, no exam will find a single trace in your system.” If any, his gears to make such assurance was the legacy of his legendary career being a Decepticon medic for thousands of years, and he’s more requited than being paid when he saved another spark with his talents.

”Hmm, that’s pretty decent job you mechs do!” Thrust was completely convinced and ready and finally put on some smile. “Go ahead and impress me!” 

“Will do! In a minute, I’m gonna put you under again.” He went back to his storage room and picked another syringe of anesthetic. 

Thrust was on his back, well prepared for the injection, he fell into stupor quickly after Groundhog did his job.

It was a smooth process, demagnetizing the spark chamber, reprogramming protocols, changing optical chroming...... his files weren’t encrypted into self-destruction packs as a couple of his previous clients, so it took him much less time. He erased the Decepticon insignias on the wings before he rebooted Thrust.

The jet sat up, sufficiently refreshed and invigorated. “Wow, I’m good as new! That’s _amazing_ , doc!” His green optics looked at him with open gratefulness.

”Please don’t call me doc......” He really wasn’t a fan of the prevalent epithet among his fellow Decepticon, neither does Hook, but he really didn’t know why. “And about your optics, you can slide between Earth green and Crystal blue, it’s in your control panels. You look amazing by the way.”

”Thank you, Groundhog, thank you! This is too much!” He studied his new appearance in the mirror and exclaimed. 

“And take this, it should be enough to get you an apartment cell just off the city, get a job.” He handed 2,500 credits to Thrust, “Find a finish salon, your pretty little frame does deserve some graceful stencils and perfumed waxing.” 

“Doctor, I really don’t know what to say.” He took the thick bunch of money, fiddling it with his digits.

“That’s what doctors do.” He smiled, the legacy as Megatron’s private therapist was also an entire stash of cash that never seemed to become less no matter how hard they spent it. “You’re good to go, remember to fill in your registration chart and apply for your virtual ID as soon as possible, or you can’t fly or do many things you like.” 

“Yes, I will.” He sub-spaced his money and quietly walked to the door. “And help me relay my appreciation to him.” He pointed at Motorhead in the corner, who fell into recharge in the process. “Primus bless you.” He turned and left without any further words.

He went back to his ward and slapped the sleeping mech’s shoulder. “Wakey Wakey, shall we move on?” He huffed as his mate rebooted vigilantly, it was so cute.

”Oh! Yeah, sure, spark and sticky this time?” Even Motorhead knew what he did just now on the berth was a rash decision.

”Yes, I wanna be a carrier for your sparkling.” He had been planning to start functioning as a normal mech for a long time, his Race Track Patrol will regroup after that, and the four can enjoy being young mechs burning rubber on Cybertron’s highways as they did tens of thousands of years ago, this time with his little one on his driver’s seat. 

Motorhead’s long spike was hitting each and every of his sensitive spots inside him at a steady pace, the coronae of their sparks began to consolidate, he permitted his impregnation protocol just in time when the very cores of the two blue orbs were jointed, he couldn’t feel anything but the love and protectiveness from Motorhead.

It’s a ritual of functioning, with which he felt that he fulfilled another duty.


	31. Siren

It didn’t feel good to be thrown out in the middle of a conversation, especially one with a figure of his time. 

But he couldn’t help but shudder at the thought of his brother being fragged relentless, it was late at night, and his chronometer told him the exact time when a completely sadistic fragging loop in Sentinel’s begins, he wondered how many mechs Nightbeak would take, and how much better he could be than those actual slaves.

But it was kind of mental compensation when he reminded himself of the other prestigious officials also whoring themselves out there, and how the place became literally the only place where equity exists, since slaves and Autobot are treated alike, no matter their ranks, while Autobots are the type of pleasurebots who are allowed to use spikes while Cons are cum receptacles, but what much difference does it make? They’re just each other’s toys in there. 

He pushed his end of their sparklink soliciting status report from his brother. He barged into his overload last night and hanged up immediately, he hope it wouldn’t be so this time. 

He gestured his two colleagues to wait for him when his spark sent out the signal through their bond.

::H...Hello? Is it a good time?::   
  


::Umm, yeah, sure, I’m in the wash racks, they finished earlier today.:: He sounded relaxed but was obviously feigned.

::Is Sentinel......?:: Although the leader is not known for bailing on promises but he just kept simulating the situation where he should bring forth the deadline.

::Nah, actually the Bots here are pretty courteous when we have some fun with each other, they are not like the Cons anyway, and I don’t think Sentinel is serious when he come up with the deactivating part, every day he had to pass those bills through the council to facilitate us outside, that takes a lot of shenanigans, all he needs was to stick his cock into someone after a long day at work so that’s what we provide, but I bet you should appear with your spoil before he’s pissed off.:: 

::I’ve got it, but it’s kind of hard to tear them apart.:: Siren remember how the family cared for each other and what kind of impact if he turned yet another powerful mech against them if he fail on both sides. ::I mean, that one, he’s really small like he just got his first frame these days.::

::Just do your best, I’m fine here, it would just need some sweet talk if you don’t manage to get anything.:: His fortitude in his voice was as obvious as each time he tried to find the last peace of puzzle in a case. ::You’re not a bad mech, follow your conscience, love you, Howler, got some data pads on a murder.”

::Love you too, Beakie.....:: The other end left before he finished.

”Everything alright, sir?” Hoursepower handed him a cyg, he held it with his lips before Horsepower lit it up for him.

Every indication tells him that things may not be as bad as he imagined but the thoughts that he couldn’t get the seeker to suffice Sentinel, and that Nightbeak’s functioning comes to an end because of his cowardice began stirring his processors. He drew a mouthful of the fume, slowly inhaling to stimulate his venting system.

”He should be fine.” He vented the fume out as he spoke. “Forget about it, I got this little pub just down a several blocks from here, wanna hit it? First round on me.”

”Hmmmm.” Hosehead and Horsepower looked at each other incredulously. “Sounds like a good plan.” And they began to transform.

”Whoa, I wanna go on pedes and a little fresh air, we’ve been driving all day, haven’t we?” 

“Yes, sir.” They quickly adjusted their gears back to their robot modes.

Siren turned on his loudspeakers with Scrappin’ Stack’s newest album and the three walk down an ally humming with the beats.


	32. Tarn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Drumrolls*

He couldn’t remember the first time he watched porn when he was still a youngling, but he missed the stealthiness, it felt sinful in an exciting way when he turned the sprinkler in the wash racks to its highest flux and logged onto Playmech on his built-in network, and it was more than thrilling to watch mechs putting their most private parts on display for everyone to see and completely shameless.

He wondered why would a mech choose to forsake their own frame merely for the pleasure of others, and whether the mechs in those pornos really know that they’re being filmed when they carry out all kinds of acrobatic interfacing stunts, his favorite one that he watched the most was where a gigantic truckformer fragging a muscle racer, he couldn’t remember how many times he overloaded when the camera zoomed in onto the loose and open valve dribbling with the sire’s transfluid when the truckformer pulled his long shaft out. He wished he had those kinds of spike and valve, it would feel glorious interfacing. 

As a student from law major, he never understood why _this_ dream should be realized first on top of all others. And now he became the receiving end of those leprechaunish attention if mechs wanted to surf the Internet for some fun.

But he did understand why those porn stars were completely without privacy, _it didn’t feel that bad as he imagined_ , it was actually pretty awesome.

He became famous after he produced several Con-on-Bot for his company, both for his purple mask and skill using his spike, but complaints also came that it wasn’t actual Autobots in those videos so the company upped the game.

”Mechs are really getting more and more hardcore these days” Was what his guard said before a legit Autobot porn star was sent to his chamber. 

He couldn’t care less about who he’s allowed to frag, his spike pressurized all the same anyway, and he pinned the actor down onto the slab and sheathed himself with one thrust, he jolted in and out with the highest power his drugged frame could wield, his servos locked the Autobot’s wrists tightly on his back with a denting grip, the porn star writhed and meowed from the mingled pain and pleasure. 

  
As usual, it was an intense overload, he pulled out just in time to blow his warm and gooey fluid all over the Autobot’s back and helm. For a second he thought that what he just did compensated for the atrocities the Autobots carried out on him.

He knew he made countless types of pornos, including those customized ones that was filmed in separate studios. He was just not that accustomed to the practice that he’s allowed, or mandated, to use his spike more than his valve, and that none of his systems were blocked albeit the fact he was a DJD member, he could even transform freely into his tank mode, because it was also demanded that he film a couple of vids that he frag or be fragged in his alt mode, it was extremely tricky at first but he got the hang of it quickly nevertheless.

_He was such a fragging expert, interfacing in all the ways only lunatics could imagine._

As soon as he became a pro in all these, the boss did a thorough upgrade to his frame, he got a much thicker spike, longer and thicker than anything he’d ever seen, his transfluid tank is also modified so that he produces much more everyday than a ordinary mech would ever need in his entire functioning, ducts were expanded so that he gives lager cum shots when he overloaded. His calipers in his valve and port were also altered and he could easily take literally anything. All his guards treated him with respect since he was one of the most valuable assets of the company, he was well fed with all kinds of energon and treats just so that he generated more energy and produced as much transfluid as possible. 

But the drawbacks, if any, was that he needed to frag or masturbate all the time to take his ever rising charges away. 

Speaking of which.

He was on the edge another climax stroking down the unbelievable monstrous length, almost as tall as his upper frame, which is currently jutting from his pelvis when a guard entered the room especially set for his masturbation, where a barrel was connected to his enormous spike head, so that he wouldn’t spill all over his frame when he comes.

“Save that one if you can, you’ve got some stage time.” The guard asked almost invitingly.

He stood up with some difficulty with the heavy load cooped up in his abdomen and followed the guard out, his spike nodded slightly as he walked, catching astonished optics and clacking shutter sounds on his way to the exhibition hall, where an audience of hundreds was waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is something nasty, the poor things is played like this with some faux esteem.


	33. Tarn

He hadn’t needed to be dragged here and there for a long time, he just follows the instructions from the guards, gets each and every mission he’s assigned done flawlessly while being all willing and obedient, his owner trusted him without any tasing collar or leash, the only time when he’s technically restrained by those things was when he performs, because they liked watching a leashed Tarn fragging other bots or being fragged, and Tarn basically likes to do whatever free mechs like to watch.

They reached the end of the hallway and sided into a room for makeup where the boisterous mob in the auditorium was clearly audible, a black collar with silver spikes was installed around his neck, it wasn’t even a taser and only served as a symbol for his identity as a slave, a shameless animal compared to all other mechs. Then he was chained to an auto pilot drone using a flimsy metal chain that he could literally break with his willpower.   
  
But he wouldn’t, it felt good to be dominated by anything, the idea makes him aroused, his charge started to rise again before he wiggled his aft to shook his spike, trying to hold it down for his audience.

”Hold on, it’s gonna tingle.” His cosmetician pulled out a long stripe of ribbon and began adorning him from his aft to the tip of his erect spike, weaving delicate patterns and knotty grids.

His had came dangerously close already when the Autobot reached the bottom of the length, he gulped down his intake lubricant nervously as his personal cosmetician went further and further forward, _he couldn’t hold this load.  
_

It came so hard, his poor ‘servant’ was shaping a butterfly at the very tip when he overloaded, his transfluid showered the mech in front of him.

”I’m sorry, sir.” This was the first time he felt disappointed about himself. 

”Don’t be, it’s not like you can control that.“ He wiped his servos covered in his sloppy goo on a blanket. “I should; instead, because I might have touched some of your distal sensors.” He finished with the final retouch before he stood up and smirked to him. “By the way, that was a beautiful load!”

”Thank you...” Tarn was aroused again, his charged rose to its highest again immediately.

“It’s your showtime! Go and impress ‘em!” The guard, who’s been watching at in the doorway, pushed a button on his remote before the drone began to move, it was extremely slow, and Tarn knows exactly which way to go, but he just follows obediently, _because he enjoys doing that too._

”Astro takes mechs just as he takes his alt modes.” The audience burst into laughter. “But his mood on stage goes up and down just as his charges rise and fall, and now he’s up for a recharge, but don’t worry, we’ve still got our next guest.” The mechs present quieted down. “He likes feeding some needy little Bots with his endless loads, he likes going on adventures with his alt-mode, he’s our much loved T-King, **TARN!** ” The host clapped his servos as the backdrop in front of Tarn slid to both sides, exposing him for every pair of optics to see, all the mechs under the roof began cheering, it was a deafening moment, he could hardly track his train of thought.

His leading drone stopped in the middle of the stage, and spotlights focused on him, the grandstand became dark, only those shining blue or green optics were visible.

”As he always was, he’s eager today.” The host approached him and began stroking his spike, the tantalizing sensation sent him to the edge again, several beads of pre-transfluid has forced their was out of the opening and dribbled onto the floor, drawing a sticky string along the way, his bare valve also began slicking itself up and thanks to his coding and nutrients, his lubricant was running like brooks down his thighs and puddled up by his pedes. He wasn’t ashamed, like the little pleasurebot he was, he felt more turned up, watched by hundreds of wanting mechs.

”My lord, please check out the throne we made for you.” The host knelt in front of him like he was a liege. 

Then the drone began to move again, leading him to the aforementioned throne, there was an apparatus shaped as a mushroom in the center of its seat, it wasn’t on his repertoire previously but he figured it out quickly, he adjusted his caliper and sat on it, it entered his port without any resistance before he felt the device bloomed inside him and began spurting chilling solvent into him, he shuddered but was thankful that this little function kept him from overloading immediately in front of his audience, he didn’t want to let them down. 

Deafening applause ensued after he wiggled his aft and get accustomed to the object in his port. His spike stood upright at this position and almost reached his jaw, he offlined his optics and transformed away his mask, one servo holding the length upright and he lowered his helm a little bit to suck himself, making intermittent meowing as he did this, his other servo playing with his leaking arrays, thumb circling his front node while the other four were all inside him, it was still too far from enough.

With optics turned off, he became more aware of the noises around him, he could hear several mechs down there moaned quietly as they reached their overload, and that’s the best reward he’d desire.

He did well containing his load this time, thanks to the continuous flow in his port, when he onlined his optics, a cart full of toys was on his side, arranged from small to large, of course he picked the largest one and the audience applauded again.

He lined up and pushed the thick shaft inside, then it began vibrating, he bucked in both surprise and pleasure, mechs snickered before they quieted again, he heard more mechs overload, he just couldn’t see them because he’s the one under the spotlight and it was pitch dark down there.

The vibration helped him build up his charge much quicker, he was finally on the edge when the host came just in time. He lifted his helm from his own spike, leaning on his back and waited.  
  
“Let’s see what a fountain load he has!” He began pulling a stray strand of the ribbon as the entire structure began to unwind, it stimulated each and every sensor on his spike in a phenomenal way that could never be achieved with servos.

He overloaded again, it felt more intense than the one he did back during makeup, because more mechs were watching. His tank was emptied quickly as his transfluid squirted spurts after spurts high up into the sky before falling back on his ventral platings, his midsection, and all over his face, is was like being showered in a hot rain. 

His tank was already fifty percent refilled when his climax passed, and he will need another one like this soon.

”Mechs, now is the interactive session.”   
  
His spark spinned faster when the host put down his microphone and left the stage for his audience, his spotlight was turned off, replaced by the dim illumination across the entire auditorium, the place would look brighter even without those lights. 

Without worries of being watched too clearly by others, groups of mechs walked onto the stage to his sides and he was quickly surrounded.

  
“Hello, beauties” He enticed the mech staring at his arrays. “Want to stick your spike into me and watch me give myself a shower again? Hmm?”   
  
The mech looked around and found that there were too many others watching the conversation,so instead, he picked another toy of a different shape and shoved it into Tarn, he meowed as he began sucking his spike again.

”Pit, he’s slick!” The mech exclaimed, arresting snickers from the others.

His next load ended up in his intake, and he managed to swallow a small portion of it.

Mechs came and went, taking turns fragging him with toys, he kept overloading every five minutes, and it lasted about three hours before almost every mechs took his turn and left. 

His owner was merciful, his transfluid glands wouldn’t generate more if he reaches his assigned daily amount, so he could go to recharge carefree after a thorough washout.

His spike finally depressurized for the first time in the day, the room was already empty, the stage was covered in his liquids but he didn’t need to worry about it, somebot will clean that up for him.

He waxed and buffed himself in the fancy wash racks prepared for him, and he was shiny as new when he walked out. His porn company has long closed so he was all alone in the staff center, he quietly walked down the hallway back to his berthroom, he was so tired and content to be fragged so thoroughly today.

_It’ll be even better tomorrow, then he went through the gateway into his dreams._


	34. Tarn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s focus on him for a while.

He rebooted several minutes before his camera time, his tanks were empty due to the depletion yesterday and he felt thirsty and hungry, he stood up from his berth and idled into the refueling room, where myriads of luxurious Energon treats, grease cake, and elemental supplements are waiting for him, the CEO was also there, which was unusual, his spark spun faster as he surmised how significant his project would be today.

”Hello! Tarn!” The manager greeted him warmly.

”Hello, sir.” He didn’t forget to be all courteous, after all he’s just a slave with some special treatments. “Good morning.”

”Good morning!” He lit a cyg for himself before he handed another to Tarn, the latter transformed away his mask and received the cyg with his intake, the boss lit it up for him. “You know what?” He drew a large gush of the fume before he took the cyg away between his digits. “You were brilliant yesterday, for one second I was worried that you might mistake the throne as a valve toy and the next second boom! You got it right, leaving you juicy pussy for the guests.” He blew several smoke ring with his intake teasingly. “With Astro and Acid, we yielded about a hundred thousand c yesterday for the tickets along.”

The comment was too arousing and Tarn’s valve began to weep at once, his spike pushed against the cover and wanted to pop out, he inhaled some of the rich blend of cyber-tobacco and weed to get some distraction, _it’ll be rude to play with himself before his master without permission._  
  
“Get as much fuel as you can, there’s another show today and you’ll need at least thirty loads for that.” He blew the smoke out from his venting system. “In case you’re not prepared, it’ll be some thorough frag in your alt modes with Acid and Astro, then you’ll transform back and be their sire but they would take you in the port and intake in the end.”

”Yes, sir, I went over the scripts yesterday.” He nodded earnestly.

”Do your best, we’ve sold five hundred and twenty seven tickets by now, VIPs will have some interactions with you afterwards, don’t let them down.” The boss smirked and left the refueling chamber, snatching a silicon chip from the table.

It was about five minutes before his co-actors entered the room, they were as depleted as he was so the three dined without any words, the fuel, as amazing as his every single meal was, was without any doubt the best of Cybertron, his tank was about to explode when he finally finished his last drop of mercury sauce, the three burped in content.

”Everybot clear about his lines?” Acid Storm asked.

”Look who’s asking, you’re the one who always forgets to put a ‘lord’ before ‘Megaton’ “ Astrotrain chided jokingly.

Acid Storm looked embarrassed, it was not an easy deal if he should really forget again on stage, however there was no time for another rehearsal.

”He’s just joking, you did pretty well actually, your frame looks elegant when you take my port.” Tarn encouraged.

”Everybot finished? It’s about time.” A guard entered the refueling room and announced.

”Yes, sir!” The three replied in tandem.

Then they were led to the backstage where Astrotrain and Acid Storm transformed into flyer modes and took off, Tarn transformed into his tank mode with his arrays and port relocated between his two tracks on his rear skirt. His spike jutted out in the front, parallel with his gun barrels. It took a lot of practice for him to refine this transformation sequence.  
  
He drove himself into an elevator which could lift him onto the center of the stage, the noice produced by their audience consisting of five hundred plus autobots or neutrals was amplified as he slowly ascended to the top. 

The entire grandstand went crazy when everybot saw Tarn appeared with his sexy alt-mode with his interfacing mechanisms on full display.

Then the sky was torn into halves when a jet slid by and landed beside him, then a ground bridge appeared in front of them where Astrotrain appeared in his shuttle mode.

”Hahaha! Lord Megatron is out hunting for those coward Autobots!” Acid Storm recited his line to the audience before he turned around and saw Tarn. “WOW! Look at that! He’s so hot!”

“Storm, why in the name of Primus are you supposed to be here?” Astrotrain started his performance as he transformed. “How dare you! Entering Lord Megatron’s property without any permission!”

”Then why the pit are you here, Astro-Train?” Acid Storm retorted.

”I’m here on Lord Megaton’s commission to retrieve his lobotomized experiment subject.” He walked towards Tarn. “I need to shuttle him to Lord Megatron’s now lab.” He was initialization his transforming sequence before Acid Storm stopped him.

”Lobotomized? Then he’s cooped up like this, isn’t he?” Acid Storm asked doubtfully.

”Of course, you glitch, frag off!” Astrotrain began transforming again.

”Whoa, I mean Lord Megatron wouldn’t know if we had some fun with him, would he? Tarn can’t even talk like this!” He caressed the spike between the two barrels, the tank shuddered when several beads of pre-transfluid seeped out from the head. “Oh, he must have been celibate for cycles, look how turned on he is!”

”Acid Storm, I don’t think that’s a good idea......” Astrotrain’s stance was swayed.

”C’mon!” Acid Storm’s panels slid open, his valve already wet and dripping. 

“Ah, alright, if you tell anybot about this, I’m gonna rip you helm out!” Astrotrain’s modified spike pressurized before he walk to the tank’s rear, he lined up and slipped inside.

The audience applauded and cheered, drowning the tank’s gasps.


	35. Tarn

Astrotrain’s spike was of the same mode as his after the universal update done by his company, and it came in pair with his valve, every protruding bumps on the length has its corresponding internal node inside him, and they fit perfectly well, his charge rose at an exponential rate when Astrotrain rutted deep and hard into him.

The fact that over five hundred pairs of optics were watched was nothing but arousing to him, Acid Storm was on his all fours in his front, his glossa lapping at the tip of his spike head between his two turret muzzles. His servos reached down to play with his bare arrays, Tarn could hear the wet and sticky noice produced as Acid Storm pumped his digits and the dripping sound when his lubricant fell on the ground. 

And everything was drenched in euphoria as he and Astrotrain came in tandem.

Their vocalizers were connected to the loudspeakers over the stage, so Acid Storm’s mewling and Astro’s moaning was like thunders above their helms.

_Everyone is watching, everyone knows what kind of shameless willing beasts they are and that they were less than Cybertronians, merely toys whoring themselves out at their masters’ mercy._

He couldn’t love the idea more, it just feel so good to think about it when he once again came in public for all to see, his transfluid covered Acid Storm’s face while his valve was filled with Astrotrain’s, much of the amount was pumped out around the thick spike, slushing its way across his entire rear skirt, and tingled him to bring waves of new sensations, evoking his hankering for the next overloaded. 

The audience burst into applause, it almost damaged their Audials.

For the next round, Astro took him in the port as Acid Storm rides him on his lower front plate, arms tightly holding his barrels as leverage, the green seeker pushed forward against the long spike, it would seem like an impossible mission to complete for the watching mechs because the sizes were too kinky. And Acid whined painfully for good measure.

It was all in the script, because Acid would release his caliper in 3...2...1... 

Then he was hilted inside the seeker and bottomed up, with the large momentum all absorbed by his spike head when he hit the ceiling, it did hurt somehow, but Acid’s moaning was nothing but pleasure.

“Use this!” The mechs clapped and whistled, throwing balloons filled with lubricant onto them, they exploded and splashed everywhere. 

”Thanks, mechs!” Astrotrain’s voice was amplified through the loudspeakers. “He deserves this, he should have thought twice for his DJD slags!”

Of course it was also on the script, and then both Acid and Astro would fuck at a faster rate, the seeker in the front worked himself back and forth at a blurring pace.

And of course, the three overloaded together, arresting tons of clapping noice and more lubricant balloons.

All of a sudden, a ground bridge opened up in front of them, and Megatron appeared at the ending.

Of course it was started by the host last night, he wore a grey helmet, and it did require some imagination to find him and Megatron alike.

”Astrotrain! What’s taking you so l....... **WHAT THE PIT ARE YOU DOING?”**

The entire crowd began roaring. “ **All Hail Megatron!** ” 

The seeker immediately pulled himself off the spike and Astrotrain backed off to cover his spike with his arms, it wasn’t remotely enough because the spike was even thicker and longer than his arms, and draped clumsily from his pelvis. “We can explain, my lord.”

”That‘s a lot of things to lie about, so impress me.” Megatron crossed his arms nonchalantly.

”We......we are testing his lobotomize......” The seeker tried to help but was interrupted by Megatron’s monstrous laughter, _at least this sounded like him in some ways._

”You really think he is?” He paused for the two to react. “Well, at least it proves that you are still stupid and loyal enough to believe that.

Acid and Astro’s faceplates went pale as he saw the tank began to transform into his robot mode, barrels folded to the back and the tracks ended up on his shoulders. His long spike still jutting from his pelvis, and his valve was still dribbling with Astro’s transfluid.

”I’m sorry, I didn’t......” Astro held his arms in front of him protectively, and quickly realized that he couldn’t cover his spike anymore, it was such a dilemma.

”ON YOUR KNEES! YOU FRAGGERS, I’M GONNA FRAG YOU BOTH TO DEACTIVATION!” Tarn roared, his red optics glowing furiously behind his mask.

”I’ll leave you be.” Megatron snickered and began to back into the ground bridge.

And everything happened so quick, the host didn’t even manage to get into the portal.

**BOOM!**

It was probably the biggest noise Tarn had ever heard in his functioning. Or maybe more specifically his functioning after the war, but he was still not sure if he had ever heard any explosion this loud in the battles.

Then he, along with all the actors on the stage was sent flat on the floor by the grazing and burning shockwave. 

His audials hurt as pit and he couldn’t hear anything but the humming noice. But he saw mechs running amok as if it was the end of the world. They pushed and squeezed each other through the emergency exit for whatever is pursuing their functioning.

Then he lifted his burnt frame and looked back.

It was just like what he saw during any random battle, mechs were blown into fragments, broken limbs and protoform scattered across the grandstand, splashed Energon blots covered the walls and dismantled seats. Several mechs were left in halves and were crawling on the ground desperately away from the smelting ground zero, drawing trails of pink liquid behind them. 

He had completely no idea what happened.

 _Perhaps the war started again?_

_But Megatron has long been deactivated, that’s not possible._

_Or maybe these watchers, they were all just slaves, and the Autobots are finally here to execute them in such a ruthless way._

His audial feed slowly returned to normal, the auditorium was empty safe for the mingled corpses strewn around. And the first thing Tarn heard was the blearing sirens of enforcer.

 _I’m so fragged this time!_ He cursed mentally as the enforcers flooded into the place, cuffing him before legit tasing collars were installed around his neck and bolts of electricity was immediately sent into his system, he haven’t been shocked for so long that the moment felt like being thrown into a smelter as his circuits were parched and reeked of burnt rubber. He screamed like a sparkling before a muter was latched on his vocalizer.

”Shut up! Glitch!” The enforcer pulled out a shocker from his subspace and pointed the tip against his bare and unprotected arrays, it felt like his entire groin was gouged out, his spike reflexively retracted into its sheath. He yelled again, but couldn’t make any sound.

The he was mechhandled to a transport together with Acid Storm and Astrotrain.

He totally lost faith of his functioning this time, _why would Primus keep treating him like this when he did nothing but trying to be good and useful?_

 _Maybe Primus is showing me that it’s time to be with the all spark?_ Then he calmed a little because there’s a pretty chance that he will end up being deactivated at the cop hive.


	36. Tarn

“Three Decepticon targets found, heading for Iacon HQ, over.” The enforcer finished before he turned off the walkie-talkie on his forearm. 

“Roger that.” The receiver resonated.

Tarn, Acid Storm, and Astrotrain were all staring at the ground, not daring to make a sound.

”So.” The enforcer smacked his intake. “That was close, you sluts are lucky.” 

Still, Tarn had completely no idea what message this conveyed. All he could feel right now was the lingering sensation on his singed valve lips totally disconcerted by his abysmal future.

For a minute, he remembered that their systems were all at their default settings, their hydraulics worked just like normal mechs so that they could frag with healthy and forceful movements, their T-Cogs worked smoothly for them to carry out all kind of interfacing stunts, even their weapons can fire real rounds when they were so well fed in the morning. They can easily jack the transport and drive it somewhere nobot could find. And obviously the cops didn’t know anything about their functions so theirs cuffs and collars are easily friable, and they wouldn’t even be prepared enough when their combined attack came up out of the blue.

_But he didn’t want to, they are just rubbish outside brothels anyway, and that would mean no one can see what kind of little slut he was, and he found the consequence extremely daunting. Function as a willing pleasurebot or be deactivated, those were the only viable ways._

”Hey, you.” The enforcer looker over to Astrotrain. “Wow, that’s a gorgeous piece of equipment of yours.” 

Astrotrain’s ventilation stopped, because the enforcer can’t be actually meaning it.

“You know what?” He looked at both Tarn’s and Acid’s arrays, which were still dripping transfluid and lubricants, slowly puddling on the flood they were currently sitting on. “I should have bought that ticket, even risking my functioning, to watch you little pleasurebots frag like rutting turbobeasts.” 

So at least, if it the enforcer was not lying, this was definitely not something as simple as a well orchestrated execution. Those deceased mechs were real Autobots or neutrals that just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. He wondered how many casualties the explosion caused, mechs weren’t mounted with layers of war armors, and judging from the amount of scrapped metal and splashed Energon on the scene, it would be far more than be could imagine.

_He felt sorry for those who were in Primus-Damned luck, because they paid him his most desired attention to his humiliation, and accepted him as a willing little bitch in the possession of each and every mech on this planet.  
  
_

“I guess you won’t be arranged for the next show any time soon, would you please put that away?” The enforcer pointed at Astrotrain’s spike, which was still standing proudly upright.

”Master, _please, I can’t_ ” Lubricant began to seep from Astro’s optics.

Because he just couldn’t, their spikes were specially coded so that they wouldn’t depressurize without acute physical stimulation or transfluid depletion. This will force them to complete their daily tasks even when they’re not on the right mood.

But unfortunately, it was not interpreted that way in the enforcer’s processors. 

”So you think you’re legitimately the only spike mech here, don’t you?” Anger was unmistakable in the enforcer’s voice.

“No, _please_ master, I didn’t mean that, you can frag me any way you want and watch me suck myself up, then it will depressurize itself.” 

“That’s not bad, but it sounded like a lot of things to finish before all the enforcers see me walking with a spike Con, can’t you imagine what kind of indecency that is?” The enforcer transformed his arm to reveal the shiny blade hidden below. “Hide it, or lose it!”

Tarn winced even imagining what kind of pain that must be.

” **PLEASE, MASTER!** _No, I really can’t even I tried!_ **”** He protectively covered his spike, for real this time.  
 **** ****

The enforcer has grabbed the head of the thick spike and twitched it to an awkward angle, Astrotrain gasped painfully. The blade was about to slice through the base before the enforcer paused.

”Maybe there’s another way around, you see your little friend?” He pointed to Tarn. “Maybe he can teach you.” Then he turned to Tarn. “Would you please?”

Tarn really didn’t want to do this, but it was definitely something preferable than castration and Tarn appreciated the cop’s epiphany before everything was too late. 

“I....I was electrified in the arrays.” He murmured.

”Ahh! Like this?” The enforcer pulled out the same type of electro-stick used on him and shoved it directly into Astrotrain’s valve without any hesitation.   
  


The scream almost tore the world asunder, Tarn almost wanted to cover his audials, but the cop helpfully latched the muter on Astro’s neck. The spike withered and went back home instantly.

”Wow, it worked!” The cop put his tasing device away. “Just wonder how _he_ knows that!”

”So you just said I can frag you any way I want, right?” The Autobot continued. 

This time, Astro was so hesitant and unwilling, but he nodded, _he would be forced to do that anyway._

“I am lenient, your poor little valve must hurt like pit, so use your intake.” His cover popped open before his cock bobbed out. “Suck like what you did on the pornos.”

Astro looked like he just got the greatest absolution in his functioning. He kneeled in front of the enforcer and deep-throated himself. His helm worked up and down on the decent length, groaning and meowing in enjoyment.

”Yeah, just like that, you’re good at everything for crying out loud!” The enforcer put a servo on Astro’s helm and pushed him deeper on his spike.

Of course all three of them swallowed a load from the cop before their transport reached the destination, and no one dared leaking a single drop.

They were escorted through a long hall before they were pushed into a cramped cell forcefully, Tarn’s optic feed glitched when he landed on his face.

”Frag as much as you like, little bitches.”

They just cuddled with each other, crying like sparklings, hoping everything will be over soon.


	37. Wheeljack

::......a I’ve never seen them again until now, but I didn’t miss them because of the complete severance, though I really should.” He finished his story, it was from spark, but he’d never shared the complete version before, even with Ratchet, he just didn’t expect the first person to hear should be a Decepticon. “Everybot will lose their guardians someday, but daddy learned to be stronger, something more every single day than the last, I try the most dangerous experiments bravely because I didn’t have to worry about anything, science was my only true love, and it turned out that love can never get a bot deactivated even if you choose the most expeditious route, and then I met Ratchet, your sire, I loved him just as I love to try everything new.:: He almost forgot his audience was just a newly-sparked mechling.

But Bladewings nodded with compassion in his red optics. Wheeljack finished fondling his wide wings and began caressing the seeker’s audial sensors on both sides of his helm. He knew that seekers in this mode have super-sensitive audials, capable of all kinds of reconnaissance missions, and he was sure to make each and every of his strokes gentle and soothing, and Bladewings just binged on the touch trustingly, obviously enjoying a lot from the positive physical contact, his optics slowly closed in content and drowsiness.

Now that both his sparklings are in recharge, Wheeljack lied on his back and stared at the ceiling, he must go back to work tomorrow, and finish whatever assignments his department left for him during the day, presumably, at least another travel around the planet should be among them. I-Beam and Blades can’t stay home either, with all his weapons available and handy all around the house, it would only be worse with two younglings. He really wish he could bring his children to his work but he would rather stay home than work like that. Putting all the ramifications aside, it seemed like the best option was to send them both into Academy tomorrow, then everyone’s happy.

He just needed to take the deal seriously this time, perhaps, there _is_ a better way around.

As usual, he forced his processors shut and fell into recharge.

* * *

It was a long night without any dreams, he rebooted again with his children’s limbs wrapped around his midsection, it took him a while to get them off without waking the sparklings, and he tiptoed to the fuel room, planning to make Bladewing’s first day an enjoyable one, a well prepared breakfast would be a good start.

In fact he just bought those mineral chips and some mini grease cakes several days ago, they were all I-Beam’s favorite, all he had to do was heating some Energon for the two as drink and the task was easy enough to compensate for his lousy cooking. 

He was covering the two plateful of treats with a thick layer of sweet mercury sauce when Blades and Beam entered the fueling room, probably smelling the food.

”Good morning, little sparks!” He set the plates on the dining table and smiled to them. ”Get your seats, your Energon will be ready in a minute.”

”Good morning, Dad.” The two mechlings replied in tandem, Wheeljack just loved to be called dad, especially by such sweet youthful voices, and it was all he needed to make his day a better one, he almost got distracted and came near to pouring the Energon on the counter slab. 

He filled the two glasses with warmed mid-grade, put them besides Blades and Beam’s arm before he grabbed a chair to sit at the table too.

Again, I-Beam got his chest plates was covered with layers of sauces and bits of food almost as soon as he began eating, in comparison, Bladewings was chewing his treats at a much more elegant, almost dramatic manner, never had he splashed a single drop of mercury.

_His felt a little embarrassed to be sitting in front of such dichotomy while the worse part was his own sparkling._

He pushed the thought away quickly, because they are _both_ his, and he should be equally proud of them. 

”Before Academy......” I-Beam’s optical ridges immediately dropped on hearing the word. Bladewings’s mood changed to the exact opposite. They both looked at him almost incredulously.

But Wheeljack gave them a reassuring look and continued. “Before Academy, I would like to ask if Bladewings would be willing to join the family of Ratchet, Wheeljack and I-Beam.”

”But, isn’t he already here, Dad?” I-Beam looked dumbfounded.

“A family member means connecting through spark link, maybe you haven’t noticed its existence between us, but for your brother, he lost his guardians and thus his links need to be reestablished or he would live in despair.” Wheeljack explained.

”Oh, right, that was in our first lesson at Academy, I remembered.” Beam clapped his servos together. “I agree, I like him, welcome Bladewings!” 

Bladewing wasn’t as indecisive as Wheeljack imagined, it was a significant decision to make in a mech’s functioning but obviously the seeker has made up his mind much prior to this. He nodded firmly. “Yes, I am.”

”So how do we do that, Dad?” Beam was eager to do something not related with Academy today.

”Finish your breakfast first, and Beam, you must wash your chest plates until there’s nothing stuck on it, alright? you don’t want and food to get into you spark chamber.”   
  
“Yay, that sounds exciting!” Beam quickly finished his Energon and rushed to the washracks, Wheeljack did a quick tutorial for Blades on how to open his spark chamber and keep it absolutely hygienic during Beam’s brief absence.

They wound up at the maintenance room, Wheeljack knelt in front of his two sparklings, he checked both his sparkling’s chestplates according to his characteristically fastidious standards, but luckily Beam did a good job cleaning himself up and Blades didn’t even contaminate it the lease bit.

”Remember, what we’re going to do now is not something to joke about, you won’t repeat it with any other sparkling without my permission, you understand?” 

“Yes.”

”Yes, dad.”

Then his chest plates slowly slid to both sides, layers of protection was dismounted from his most vulnerable part on his frame, revealing the throbbing orb of blue light beneath. “Like this, open your chambers very slowly, avoid any fraction or collision, well, I’ll do that again, watch closely.” He closed his chamber and repeated the entire sequence again. “Got it?”   
  


Bladewings and Beam nodded, but Wheeljack was feeling guilty, he couldn’t believe that he was instructing two sparklings to do something that a normal mech would never do during his childhood, although its related knowledge was mandatory and taught on the first day of Academy.

Beam’s sequence was smoother, probably because of the practice at school, but Bladewings seemed stuck halfway, his azure spark was shining through the narrow seam, wanting to reach out for Wheeljack and I-Beam.

”Umm, let’s close it and try again.” Wheeljack closed his chamber, so did I-Beam, and the three began opening up together.

Bladewings successfully revealed his full spark this time, Wheeljack put his servos on the children’s backs and drew them towards him. He felt electric field released by the corona grew stronger and stronger when the smaller sparks approach his. His metals all across his frame were burning with anxiety and pleasure. He could feel his sparklings were a little overwhelmed but before they began to flinch, he increased his force on their back and push the two small orbs toward his much larger one.

Then their outer layers were connected his own spark immediately registered the existence of a stray one and immersed both Beam and Blades inside himself. The final barrier between him and the seeker was shattered, and he felt peace, trust, hope, and subliminal love, a large share spared only for Wheeljack, hidden deep down within the very core of their sparklings. It was nothing like his merging with Ratchet, but it was as pleasurable though it’s much less intense.

Bladewings was leaning tight into his servo, gasping for more air to sustain his rapid energy consumption, his red optics widened in pleasure from being compensated for the missing part in his spark, being a part of a whole again, never to be separated. No matter what his history might have been, he’s Wheeljack’s now, also a true brother and friend of I-Beam’s, he can finally convey his true emotions through the bond to his loved ones from now on, nothing that he needed will ever be ignored again.

Wheeljack’s optical feed was a little dull when they finished merging and closed their chambers, he slowly readjusted his shutters to the much less illuminated room. His children was doing the same.

::I love you, Dad:: was the first sentence sent to him through the family bond.

::I love you too, both of you.:: He stroked Blades’s little helm, optics went mildly damp.


	38. Siren

The alley was pitch dark where there were tall buildings on both sides, mechs weren’t fond of installing windows facing the dilapidated path, and risk being watched right through by some street punks or beggars.

Siren had walked through this place several times but non of them felt so creepy as this time, Horsepower and Hosehead never let go of their weapons and stopped humming after they heard some weird noises going through a dark tunnel, he paused his music for good measure.

”Sir, it feels too dangerous this way, I suggest we choose another.” Horsepower whispered behind him, his trembling voice echoed along the entire alley.

”Hold on, we’re almost there.” He really shouldn’t have chosen this path today, if it wasn’t for the fact that this in the only shortcut and they were almost there, he would go back the way they came right now without any hesitation. _He could just hope everything is fine._

They could already see the illuminations on the main road after they turned a corner, but this last part was branchy, a side path would appear every few steps, leading to a Primus-know-what place.

This whole area was once part of a busy recycling market in old Iacon, but it was completely deserted during the war, and became gangster turf not long after city enforcement was shut down, when the war was over, it’s already beyond repair and was against Iacon’s new urban planning. The entire place is going to be pulled down for construction purposes sooner or later. By then it’s going to be reduced to a mere memory for those mechs who had ever walked through here.

Layers of patchy graffitis on the walls, claw marks and even dried Energon blots still remind Siren of its history, he was frequently sent here for emergencies because of times when black marketing takes place or some punks got deactivated in a fight here. Everything was better after city enforcing was resumed and the turf was put under intense surveillance.

 _Nothing would happen, the place was pretty safe, isn’t it?_ Siren through.

He walked past another branch alley, which was especially dank and reeked of unidentifiable odors, he jogged past it with his spark spinning wildly.

He jumped and fell on his aft when he heard the keen yell behind him, coming from nobody else but Horsepower.

He pulled out his weapon and turned back, Horsepowes has disappeared into thin air, his scream went deeper and deeper into the branch he just went past, and was intermittently muffled by a nasty chewing noise. Hosehead was crazily shooting his laser gun into the darkness, he quickly ran out of ammos and reached for a new pod latched on his midsection.

Horsepower’s agonizing wails became weaker and weaker before it stopped. Siren got back on his pedes and walked back to Hosehead’s side, he also pointed his own laser gun towards the menace who apparently just deactivated Horsepower before their very optics.

A tall and bulky silhouette slowly stood out from its dark background, it was much taller and bigger than he and Hosehead combined, he shuddered in desperation, his back struts was literally frozen.

Nevertheless, he gathered his gears and yelled towards it. “Get out on your robot mode! Servos on your helm, or you’ll be fired upon!” 

The large mech paused for a while, but continued walking until he was visible, the ground was quaking with his pede steps. 

A large T-Rex was finally under the dim light in the alley, his frame was still heavily armored war mode, several minor dents on his chest plate was the only damages Hosehead’s gun caused.

He bent and studied Siren closely, his venting through those scary fangs sent smells of fresh Energon and crushed metal and circuits, his Energon went cold thinking about the gruesomeness. Siren wasn’t sure if the mech was sentient and braced himself for his demise tonight, _maybe this is Primus’s decision._

But the mech transformed, his bi-pedal mode was almost twice as tall as Siren’s, his red visor was the only major feature on his emotionless faceplate. The red Dinobot insignia on his wide yellow chest plate immediately reminded Siren of the most controversial topic in the enforcement center.

Then the mech opened his intake and put his digits into it, as if something was stuck on his denta, the the thing he pulled out almost made both him and Hosehead purge. 

”Hmm, he was juicy and chunky.” He picked out the dead optic in his intake and added it to a little container from his subspace, though the container was opaque, it rattled as if there were many more optics in it, Siren couldn’t even imagine.

”Servos on your helm, Sir, you’re clear about what you’ve just done, right? You’re under arrest.” Hosehead was still futilely trying to actually put the monster under arrest.

”Grimlock is clear about EVERYTHING!” Was the Dinobot’s reply.

Hosehead was mumbling something through his enforcer internal network.

”Hey, Hey, there, you finish what you’re doing and be a guest in my tank with your tasty little pal, agreed?” Grimlock tilted his helm to one side, looking innocent.

But Hosehead immediately melted into a useless pile on the ground, his optics was at the verge of leaking. “P.......Please, I didn’t call anyone, _please don’t eat me,_ **please!** ” 

Grimlock snickered contentiously.

”So, Grimlock, am I right?” Siren paused for a confirmative answer. But the Dinobot just mockingly followed him. He sighed and continued. “No matter what you have done just now, let’s talk about it with words and civility, ok? Do you want to go the Energon club and settle for a talk down there? My treat.”

“Look who’s talking, blah blah blah.” Grimlock spread his arms in a blasé manner before he knelt on one knee in front of the two enforcers, and it seemed that he was serious this time. “Let Grimlock tell you something then, you really think you’re the ones with so called ‘civility’? Well, what I’ve learned from you Autobots so far is that you’re just some racists who forget your allies during the war.” His red visor glowed as he talked.

”Sir, I’m not quite sure what you are getting at.” The statement was really baffling, he did notice that several bills concerning ethnic groups got passed through the council for some obscured reasons but that was it, Hosehead was as confused as he was.

”Huh, you’re just a innocent little cop, ok, then, long story short, those blearing tin cans from your department confiscated a large chunk of our Dinobot district out of the blue several days ago, and my house was so damned to sit in that area, I wasn’t even informed before I found the entire slagging place in rubbles.” He waited for Siren to process the information. “I guess you’re _someone_ in the cop hive, if that’s your real badge, but it so pitiful that you still had no idea about what’s going on in out territory assigned to us by Optimus himself, your media did a fantastic job covering the whole thing up, saying something like ‘city construction’ and scraps, didn’t it?”

”Sir, I’m sorry that you lost your home, but there’s no need to take extreme measures, if you had reported your issues, we could have assigned you a new housing unit for rebating purposes in no more than a few days.” Though limited Siren explained what he knew about the housing regulations.

”A few days? If I report now, then it’s probably not gonna happen during my functioning, but unfortunately, I need a cozy little berth to recharge in right now, because Grimlock hasn’t done that for weeks.” He tilted his helm again, looking earnest and innocent.

Siren pondered over the situation for quite a well, he came up with a plan, but he _really_ didn’t want to do this.

”Well, come to my house then, I can set up a larger one for you.” Siren sighed before he turned to Hosehead, the latter was already sitting in his puddle of waste liquid, what could he do otherwise? He didn’t want to be someone else’s dinner either. “Hosehead, you are dismissed now, you saw nothing tonight, understood?”

”Y....Yes, Sir!” He struggled to his pedes, dashed onto the main road and transformed, his tires were almost put on fire when his engines roared before he drove off in a blur.

”He’s kind of cute, look how he voided himself, I shouldn’t have considered eating him without knowing how full he was.” Grimlock watched as Hosehead ran for his functioning. “After you, don’t transform n’ no tricks, cause you look more juicy than the last one.”

”Alright Alright!” He shut down all his communication with his station and began walking the long way back home on his pedes, followed by a hooligan who could devour him at any minute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh, I finally reached this step!


	39. Ironhide

_What’s with my Cross’s accent? Where did it go? I was just joking when I told him that I don’t like it, he didn’t know about this the whole time_?

Or maybe it was all Sentinel, who traumatized his self acceptance by scolding and discriminating his accent.

 _You’re right, the bastard,_ this is exactly what he would do, eliminating every shard of his self, deceiving him with those conveniently fabricated stories dedicated for besmirching Ironhide himself; and train him to be his own willing pleasurebot until he becomes dull and shall be discarded by all rights of his damn laws.

He ground his denta in anger, but after all, if anything, what could they do now that they are on Earth, hiding for their functioning? Their home planet is still to some extent, broken. If only his team could do anything about it without losing more of his much loved members, Cons and Bots alike. 

He sighed, the war was gruesome, it left mechs a scar on their sparks that doesn’t heal. Did Ironhide hate Decepticons? of course he did, but when he saw this kind of hatred has escalated into something more hideous than the atrocities Decepticons had ever committed, he decided to be on the right side, as his team always would. He actually learned how to love, when he met with Barricade, Dreadbot, and Blackout.

It’s just their victory didn’t really work out the way they expected for most Cybertronians, not when there are still the ones who are suffering from the cruelties carried out against them, _not yet._

”You alright, Hide?” He was interrupted by Barricade on his side, his servos rested on Ironhide’s wide shoulders.

”Um, just thinking about his accent and stuff, he was just too broken, it’s gonna be hell of a lecture tomorrow again.” He whispered to the Saleen. “And did you hear that sparkling part he talked about? I just sorta wonder.” 

“Yeah, I did, but let’s just focus on what on our plates right now, save those remaining affairs on Cybertron for Optimus.” His digits went beneath Ironhide’s plates and rubbed those tensed cables there. “Take you mind off of it, I can give you another ride if you want.” He opened his panels, revealing his supple folds for him.

“Nah, I’m good” He knew Cade was trying to be more helpful than willing, and he couldn’t possibly be looking forward to the day that they returned Cybertron, where his own porn is spreading like virus across the entire globe. 

Thinking about this just made Ironhide sick, what is a mech if he cannot even live on his home planet as one?

He heard hasty footsteps outside from outside the hanger, it started the direction of Ratchet and Hook’s medical hanger.

Then the Autobot medic stormed into their hanger, Mikaela almost fell off the sofa when the door flew open.

“Well, I’m sorry to uh......” He looked around before his optics landed on Crosshairs’s sloppy arrays. “WHAT? YOU FRAGGED HIM?” He glared at Ironhide. “ _How many times should I tell you not to before his back heals?_ ” 

”He just needed it, and I gave it to him with extreme care.” Ironhide shrugged.

”Ugh, you slagging sluts, both of you! Imma figure that out later!” He rolled his optics to Ironhide and turned to Optimus, who had always been the last to fall into recharge. “I’ve got a signal from Cybertron, and......” He paused, looking rapturous but incredulous about the information that’s he’s about to reveal.

“And?” Optimus dipped his helm.

”It’s from Wheeljack, he needs help.” He finished the sentence, sharing the same expression on his faceplate with Optimus Prime. 

”He’s an Engineer, isn’t he? What about him?” Optimus frowned as he couldn’t relate any gimmicks they are doing with the scientist.

”Same problems we got back there, but it really broke my spark, here, I’ll send you the files.” He clicked a button on his data port with his optics started looking damp. 

“I’ll arrange a meeting on this tomorrow, you can check Crosshairs now.” Optimus laid back on his berth and began reviewing those file packages.

”Thank you, Optimus.” He stared on for a while before he turned to Ironhide. “Be careful of your **functioning** if I find **anything** wrong with him.” He glowered at Ironhide’s so-so gesture before he began scanning the sound recharging Crosshairs.


	40. Siren

He and Grimlock walked down the streets, the combination of a cop and a Dinobot was really begging for attention as all the mechs started looking at them, he could even hear several nosy flyers transformed and perched on the buildings above them, they snickered and chattered in an exotic language Siren wasn’t exactly familiar with.

Grimlock’s heavy pedesteps made the ground quake around him, several scavenging punks transformed and drove at the highest speed their worn engines could manage as soon as they saw two of their worst menaces should be walking together almost servo in servo.

Siren’s faceplate was burning, anyone who knew about Dinobots would tell immediately what situation Siren is put in, they ran away merely because it was better safe than sorry.

Grimlock didn’t seem to mind though. “Huh.” He seemed to be savoring the imposing effect a lot, no matter where he got.

”Hey, there!” He greeted the seekers high above.

Nothing, if the seekers’ ceasing their gossip didn’t count, came as a reply. And they stared right back at Siren with the suffocating curiosity about his reaction to this.   
  
Siren wanted to disappear into thin air right now, he hated anything capable of flying, criminals or not, they are such a pain in the aft for a grounder enforcer like him to deal with.

_Maybe I can just take off suddenly when he’s busy enjoying his prestige? The gigantic dork couldn’t even come near to chasing his alt mode, maybe......_

He was almost initiating his T-Cog when a large and heavy servo was pressed on his shoulder plates, his frame tensed and went stiff as his spark spun crazily.

_So this is it, Primus......_

”You’re up to somethin’ lil’ cop.” Grimlock’s deep voice sent a shiver down his back struts. “I’m still 63 percent empty in my tank and your chewy lil’ colleague didn’t last long in there......”

”Alright! Alright! Please! I want a result where I can still be functioning.” Siren couldn’t help but heard the snickers from those seekers.

”So don’t try me, like that again.” Grimlock lifted his servos and stood up to his full height.   
  
“His name is Horsepower......” Siren murmured. “He was my friend, I....I don’t like it when you ate him, just so you know....., I’m just...... afraid of you, that’s all....., if you promise......” He wished that the Dinobot was at least capable of emotions.

”Yeah, very.” Grimlock puffed. “It’s good to be honest, that’s somebot Grimlock would like to make promises to.” He talked as if he was Siren’s sire.

They didn’t talk until they finally stopped in front of Siren’s housing unit. It was honestly a long walk, Siren’s tank was roiling in need of fuel. 

Then he remembered something before he turned to Grimlock. 

”Umm, be prepared, I have Cons.” He then pressed his digit on the bio-recognition lock on his door.

”I’m happy with them.” Grimlock clasped his servos together.

As soon as the gate in front of Siren slid down, two Decepticons originally kneeling in front of the entry bent over immediately, they licked and kissed Siren’s pedes with their intakes and glossa, swallowing every bit of dirt from the long walk as if it was the best treat on this planet.

”Nice job, sweeties.” Siren squatted, talking directly into the audials of the eagerly licking mechs as if they were his pet. “They tasted a little different today, huh? I guess there’s still some hi-grade splashed at Wheeljack’s place remained on my pedes.” He stroked their helms condescendingly. “You can have some more, provided that you behaved, I know it’s boring to live on low-grade all day.” 

“That’s really some submissive lil’ Cons ye got there!” Grimlock’s voice made the two Decepticons stop lapping their glossa at Siren’s pedes.

“Please feel at home, they will clean you too, if you want.” Siren stepped aside, pulling his pedes away, and the two Cons waited for their next costumer patiently, optics riveted on the ground.

“Nah, I’d rather take a shower later.” Grimlock flexed his thick limbs. “Haven’t had that kinda luxury for cycles, and......” 

“And?” Siren tilted his helm. 

“So there’s really a berthroom set for _me_ , right?”

”Of course, be my guest on that, don’t need to.....”

”Nonononono...” Grimlock interrupted. “I mean if that’s the case, would you mind if I keep these two little ones for the night?” 

Siren shook his helm and sighed. “Yeah, of course, I said be my guest, wash racks is that way, and next to it is refueling room, help yourself with _anything_ you can get here except _me_ , deal?” 

“Deal.” Grimlock yawned and walked towards the washracks, Siren smacked his intake before he rummaged through his fridge and pulled out a can of flavored oil. 

“Let’s see......” he plopped into his couch and took a sip before he inserted a memory cell on his data port. 


	41. Grimlock

Siren’s washracks was not awesome, not the best he’d seen, but at least was exactly what he needed right now, all his bumblebee yellow platings were taking on a brownish color under layers of filth and dust, his joint lubricants were packed with coagulated obstacles that hurts a little whenever he moves, without the protection from his ammo rounds, the missile caverns on his shoulders were also jammed with different foulness that itched a lot, it’s been weeks since the symptom first appeared and it must be rusty and rotten in there by now.

He ran the solvent through his digits until the temperature was comfortable on his frame, steaks of black immediately appeared around his pedes when he raised the sprayer over his helm, he lingered on the sacred feeling for a while before he decided to finish the unpleasant parts first, he went to the cabinet and picked a new brush for intake maintenance, and scoped a chunk of magnesium gel with it before he inhaled deeply and poked it straight into the uppermost hole on his left shoulder.

It was burning as pit when the fine metal powder within the gel began reducing the accumulated dust there, but it was also incredibly pleasurable now that his itches were finally scratched where they generated.

He went through all the holes, pushing the brush deep and hard, drawing traces of Energon each time he pulled out, but enjoying the painful but placating process. 

He did the same with his clustered cables beneath his neck, deep inside his armpits until he came near to both sides of his back struts, crannies around his groin and aft and also beneath his pedes. It felt glorious when all the annoying sensations were unified into a mild burning pain.

He applied to everything with a random amount of nanite before he dried and waxed himself.

“Nice n’ clean!” He walked out of the wash racks back into the living area and heard mechs sobbing.

”So for more then an entire Groon you two were lying on the ground cuddling like brooding turborats!” Siren’s optics were lidded, apparently going through some visual files as he spoke.

” _Please_ , master, we were just too hungry and tired.” The olive green Decepticon kneeling on the left rested his helm on Siren’s right pede and cried. The blue mech on his right was trembling in fear.

“Is that right? I thought it was _you_ two that _mistakenly_ downed an entire cube of mid grade this morning, and suddenly it all became so hard just keep kneeling here waiting for me.” Siren scolded. “So apart from your glitching olfactory, you’re also having trouble processing.” Siren looked amused rather than truly pissed off.

“Master, do have mercy.” The blue flyer spoke up. 

“They had nothing else to offer huh?” A little intrigued and aroused, Grimlock sat on the couch opposite to Siren, the latter began looking a little alarmed on his presence. Grimlock just stared at those bare arrays of the two Decepticons agape. “That’s so _damn_ hot.” 

”Well, I’m afraid that you need to seek mercy elsewhere tonight, go and greet Grimlock.” He nudged their helms with his pedes toward Grimlock’s direction.

Obediently, the two flyers turned and cautiously creeped towards Grimlock and rested their helm under Grimlock’s pedes. “Master.” They addressed in tandem.

“So what are their designations?” Grimlock lifted his optics and looked to Siren. “They look kinda......familiar, but ain’t gonna get tha’ right over my helm.” 

”Tell him, your designations.” He demanded. 

“I’m Skyquake.” Again, the green mech spoke first.   
  
“I’m Dreadwing.” The blue mech followed suit.

“And they are splits.” Siren continued. “Quite a pretty bargain to get them both in _there_ for something like 500 c, because mechs don’t seem to enjoy a lot when it comes to broken mechs like them, but feisty or not, I’m totally happy with them, I hope you don’t mind.” 

He knew what place the cop was referring to, and he knew how Autobots enjoyed the torment of defiant Decepticons on the streets for Everybot to see. Then he remembered those mechs that ended up in his tanks......

Right after his neighborhood was pulled down, his small squad of homeless Dinobots went separate ways, they all know what they were gonna end up with if they were really naive enough to waltz into a cop hive and report their losses, ever since Optimus disappeared from this planet, the entire high council went rogue, passing ludicrous bills just to manipulate whichever properties that they found promising. First it was those suffocating chemical industries being settled all around Dinobots‘ precinct, then his place was pulled down without his consent. 

He, Slag, Swoop, Sludge, and Snarl lived in the same block after the war ended and lost their residence all together.

They got themselves drunken, barely able to process the night they found their turf was flattened for a new factory, and decided to revenge after they split up.

On his part, he ate mechs, among whom many were Con owners like Siren. He attacks whenever these mechs make the wrong decision to seek for shortcuts. 

Almost always, the enslaved Decepticons were just waiting to be devoured after they saw what happened to their masters, not even showing the intention to escape, but never once did Grimlock actually eat any of these slaves, they were either too dirty or emaciated for his taste at the time. 

_But strangely enough, at this moment, he not only felt glad not having done so, but was a little thrilled by what he could have done._

”No, I don’t.” Grimlock replied dismissively, he hated Decepticons to his gears, but he hated Autobots alike, it just didn’t feel right to view such dichotomy in front of his very visor. “Where’s my berthroom?” 

“That way in the warehouse, mine is too small for you so sorry about that, you can find XL mattresses there.” He stood and walked toward his own crammed berthroom. “But we _will_ figure your thing out tomorrow, I hope I don’t need to repeat that.” 

”Sure.” He squeezed a smile and helped the Dreadwing and Skyquake stand up, although they still dared not look at anything else but the ground. “My room?” He squatted in front of the two and took Skyquake’s right servo.

Of course they just obeyed what they were given. 

Grimlock found a decently sized cushion and spread it on the floor, he closed the door behind the Decepticons and sat on it.   
  


“I feel kinda bad for ye, n’ Grimlock didn’ like i’” He looked between the two. “Look me n’ the optics.” 

They raised their helm, their red optics looked into his.

”Yer master brought me here cus I ate his lil’ pal and threatened him.” He put it straight before the two Cons began wincing. “Ma point is, Grimlock’s better than Autobots, n’ you’re safe here if I decide not ta eat you, no need to sulk around like that to me this whole night.” 

They did calm a little, but still looked pretty terrified by the mechavore in front of their optics.

“What can I do ta make ye cheer up a lil’ bit, n’ prove tha’ I ain’t gonna eat nobot from now on?” 

“Please, _master_.” Skyquake’s optics leaked as he talked. “You can do whatever you like on us, but _please_ don’t deactivate us.” 

”Frag us any way you prefer, that’s the only thing we can offer.” Dreadwing continued.

”N’ tha’ can make ye happy?” Grimlock felt a little taken aback at them.

They hesitated a little but nodded anyway.

”Grimlock is no’ the brightest but I’m no too stupid to tell wha’ ye think.” He made a serious face. “I’m not gonna rape ye, Dinobots are not as into that as Autobots are, we’re made ta battle, no’ interface.”

It looked like Skyquake and Dreadwing were exchanging messages through their spark link.   
  
“Ye can share yer stories with me, I jus need a nice recharge right now.” He plopped on the mattress, causing a little earthquake. “On my sides.” 

Then Skyquake took the position on his left and Dreadwing on his right, but none of them started talking.

”So wha’ do I have ta say ta get some words other than begging from your intakes? Beg you back? Please?” He mocked, but he truly wanted to know more about these ex-enemies of his, because he’d never cared about the middle pound before.

After much consideration and silence Skyquake and Dreadwing finally started babbling those boring days after they became Siren’s slaves and that sometimes Siren was actually pretty lenient, but sometimes they had to try kneeling the entire day until their master’s back while being recorded, the thing in the living area was more or less just a show to please Siren.

Drousiness conquered Grimlock’s processors, he held the Dicepticons tighter on his sides and fell into deep recharge soon. 


	42. Wheeljack

Bladewings plugged himself between Wheeljack’s knees and wrapped his arms around his neck, Bladewings then buried his faceplate in Wheeljack’s neck cables.

He would be surprised if the seeker should do anything less when he has lost the most crucial kind of love and caring for a sparkling, after all it’s a dried and pit-scorched spark re-drenched in dew. But the feeling was still new and peculiar and never seemed so vivid before, the new bond added to his felicity at the moment when his loved mate was across the universe at the other end of space.

He landed several kisses on the jet’s helm and stroked his delicate wings, both the seeker’s field and his bond were sending off tides of excitement and halcyon.

I-Beam watched smiling as his spark brother lingered on his father’s love before Bladewings retracted and Wheeljack stood up.

”Gotta go, time for Academy!” He subspaced haphazardly several doohickeys on his desk that he might need during his day at work. “Don’t sulk like that, Beam, look at your brother!” He casually dressed his plates with some gloss spray to the mirror, where he saw I-Beam’s cranky faceplate.

He didn’t have much time left to give a full on lecture about Beam’s attitude at school.

Or so he thought, the day’s gonna be different for the two anyway, Beam _will_ end up liking going to Academy. 

His youngling followed him out, the strong solar rays immediately casted heat onto their metals, it’s going to be a hot, sunny day, not the ideal for work so he entertained himself with the thought of fragrant oil bath during crash hours or the frosty gasoline right out of his company’s cafeteria fridge.

He transformed and as last night, popped open his front doors for his sparklings before they both got on and buckled up.   
  
With a slightly antsy spark he drove off towards Academy.

_What if Bladewings got scared and forgot about his optics?_

_Did Siren make his promise come through?_

_What after a week when there’s still not any other way around abandoning Bladewings to Sentinel?_

He pulled himself over in front the admission office of Iacon Central Academy, he hastily opened his doors for his sparklings before they got off, a couple of senior students walked by staring at Blades, either out of admiration or confusion, worse even, arousal. 

He grabbed Blades’s servo and walked into the office and was greeted warmly by a student assistant.   
  


“Um, this is Bladewings, as in Bladewings. WJ, he’s just matriculated, check the record please.” He was almost at the verge of freaking out.

”Bladewings WJ......” The assistant went through his memory files. “Ah, here, he was registered to......Class Areal, Grade One......last evening, is it correct?” 

_This is not so good, Siren put him in the Areal class......_

_What other classes could he be in anyway?_

“That’s right, thank you.” Wheeljack smiled to the senior student.

The assistant smiled back before he squatted in front of Bladewings. “So, Bladewings, please show me your optics, I need to verify your ID.” 

Wheeljack’s spark almost stopped working when the student started scanning Blades’s optics, he knew there’s some nuances within the structures Autobot and Decepticon optics.

_Don’t mess up, don’t mess up!  
_

“Welcome to Iacon Central Academy, we are lucky to have you as one of us, hope you enjoy your study here.”

Wheeljack let out a long vent and closed his optics in relaxation when he heard the declaration. 

”Please follow......”

”May I walk them in myself?” Wheeljack asked.

”......sure......” the student looked confused for a second but smiled and nodded understandingly. “Just be quiet in there.” He sat back to his reception counter and started working on his course, waiting for the next guardian.

He grabbed both Blades’s and Beam’s servo tightly in his as he walked down the hall full of students, mostly grounders, so a flyer in the frame with a grounder guardian who happened the be a TV star was _some_ good scenes to look at. He received multiple “Good morning, Sir.”s along the way.

Wheeljack could feel some nervousness from his bond with Blades but is was more of excitement and anticipation. 

They were approaching the triple-changer and flyer section of the campus, where more students were the similar modes as Bladewings, and they were not as intensely watched as just now.

He stopped and knelt on one knee in front of the two.

”Blades, I’m hoping you to enjoy your first day at Academy, try not to think about what you heard last night, and......” he hovered his digits in front of his own optics.

Understood, Bladewings nodded eagerly.

”Beam, you’re not in the same class, you must check on each other between classes, in the frame, not through your link, understood?” 

They both nodded.

”Good.” He stood. “I gotta go, have a nice day, sparks!” He let loose of his suppressed vocalizer. 

Several young seekers come forth curiously but hesitantly as Wheeljack backed away from Blades.

As he walked out, he felt Bladewings tentatively walked towards the crowd of young Autobots, trying to exhibit his friendliness, while Beam drudged back to his grounder sector.

He sighed, and exited the hall way after casting a last worried glance on Bladewings, he couldn’t really exclude the case where Blades changed his optical color some time in the day.

_He could just hope that the war was truly over._


	43. I Don’t Wanna Be Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just tweaked the title, that’s all.

Grimlock smacked his intake and rubbed his optics when he woke up from his night’s slumber, feeling as energized as he’s never been before. 

He idly rise from his pillow and sat on his aft.   
  
“Good morning, sir.” Was the synced voices of Skyquake and Dreadwing, reminding him that he’s still at the cop’s house, obviously the two flyers were already kneeling beside his berth for a considerable amount of time watching him recharge, he suddenly felt a little creeped out.

And it hit him, perhaps it was not so wise to just throw himself asleep last night, oblivious to anything that Siren might have done during the night.

Anyway, it was still worth the recharge, really.   
  
“Mornin’, lil’ Cons.” He acknowledged back. “Ye were early, that ain’t a bad ‘abit. But ye know? You didn’ have te kneel here n’ watch me recharge.”

”I’m sorry sir, but master Siren want us to kneel wherever we wake up and wait for him to command.” Skyquake replied.

”Damn it! So ye don’t see how unfair that is? Ye were pit of some warriors, n’ just ta flop so hard n’ broken like tha’?” Grimlock crossed his heavily metallic arms in an menacing way. “Look, today, I need ye ta do a prank on yer master understand?” He entertained the idea in his processor for a while and found it a pretty good idea to give a little insult to Siren without involving himself in the frame.

”Please, sir, we can’t.” Dreadwing, who crossed his digits in front of his chest plate entreatingly. “He would deactivate us.”   
  
“You cowards, then I understand, ye’d never actually been warriors, ye must be cringing under tables pissin’ your panels when yer base is bombarded by those Autobots.” Grimlock was clear that for any mech that had even the slightest shard of esteem, this would be the most insulting banter ever, it was no joke to question a warrior’s gears in battles, he hoped one of them would talk back to him, even in their submissive manner, that they were not really the wusses they were being. “Yer worthless functioning is all that matter ta ye two tin cans.” He was even certain that even Siren wouldn’t choose the words he did.  
  
He grinned as he felt some anger rose in the two Decepticons’ field.   
  
“Sir.”Dreadwing’s red optics were fluctuating a bit when he looked directly into Grimlock’s optics. “We are not cowards.”

”Then why don’t ye bring it fer me?” He provokingly raised his tone.

Dreadwing literally looked like he would take all his tensed temper out on Grimlock.

”Sir, it’s how our master would deactivate us that daunts us the most.” Skyquake saved the situation.

”Hmm?” Grimlock was intrigued.

”He will euthanize one of us in front of the other first.” He paused long enough dealing with his inner turmoil. “We are split sparks, the pain would be indefinite even for a second if we didn’t enter the well together.” He then raised his helm and joined his brother in looking into Grimlock’s optics. “We do have fears, but please, we are not cowards or tin cans.”

”Alright, alright, I’m sorry.” Grimlock feigned a dodgy shrug. “That _is_ tough and scary enough.” He meant it.  
  


Their conversation was disrupted when Siren knocked on Grimlock’s door. “Wakie wakie!”   
  
“He’s not gonna make tha’ kinda threat to ye from now on, count on that.” He whispered towards the two Cons and went opening the door. 


	44. Bladewings

He paused and looked over his shoulder, his dad was looking at him through the door, he smiled and waved him goodbye, Wheeljack nodded and disappeared into the hallway.

Tentatively, he walked on, towards the several Autobot seekers hanging around the bench chattering. They became aware of his presence and turned around. Four pairs of blue optics averted to their gazed into his.

For a second some unpleasant memories about those blue optics struck his processor, he shuddered at the thought and swallowed hard, but kept composed anyway, _there’s nothing to fear, daddy promised, right?_

”You new here?” The tallest one of them, a red jet of those fancy supersonic modes, streamlined stripes all across his frame, asked in a solemn and indifferent voice.

He nodded. “Yes, it’s my first day at academy.” He considered all of the four jets. “Nice to meet you all.” He smiled.

”Hmm, nice to meet you.” The same red jet replied, he squeezed a smile. “You newbies are all in there.” He pointed towards the opening.

They resumed chattering, not paying a glance at him anymore, slightly embarrassed, Bladewings licked his lip plates and decided that he had to walk on. 

_Hmm, so this is where all the sparklings go to...... He couldn’t the though that he did feel a little disappointed and insecure about their aloofness, that maybe those Autobots in Sentinel’s place were true about the fact that a Decepticon is only good for pleasurebots, there’s something in his kind that never washes away and is recognizable at first glance even when his optics are blue._

_But on the other servo, nobot would even know his true identity if they weren’t experts of some sort, his dad was the top engineer for crying out loud, that plus that he had been inspecting his optical codes this whole time, perhaps there’s just something off about the senior students._

He swallowed hard down the lump in his throat and reset his emotional processor to a light and anticipative mode.

::Are you alright?:: Beam pushed a message on his spark.

::The larger student didn’t seem to like me.::he replied.

::Trust me, that’s just they being themselves. A whole bunch of flyers at your age is gonna like you. Love you bye!::Beam asserted on his end and went silent.

In the room, large crowds of students formed into different chattering clusters. A few gazes were casted on him briefly before averted back to their respective conversations.

He was startled when a digit poked at the middle of his left wing. Startled, he jerked his head towards the students who just touched him.

”Oops, sorry.” The young Autobot, slightly shorter and slenderer than him, as opposed to his side wings, his wings went upright from the back of his shoulders, making his look much taller than he actually are, he wasn’t exactly well buffed, his engines suited on the sides of his chest had taints of rust on them.

”Oh, it’s okay, hi!” Bladewings smiled graciously that someone finally cared to accost him. His gaze riveted on the other seeker’s optics.

The other seeker, however, kept his gaze averted and stared off to somewhere else, apparently preoccupied about something on his mind. ”H-Hi.” He replied sheepishly.

”What’s your name? I’m Bladewings, nice to meet you!” Be it that this little pal is still somehow cold, Bladewings just thought he should treat everyone else with the best attitude.

”I-I’m Aerostrike.” He answered reluctantly. “That’s not important, do-do you have a credit?” 

  
He didn’t, Wheeljack didn’t give him any.

”No? Why?” He was baffled because there’s no credit-required events in Academy.

”Please, I need it.” Suddenly Aerostrike’s blue optics became wistful and wet. “I’ll pay you back tomorrow, I promise, please.” He finally gazed into Bladewings’s optics. 

“But I don’t have it, what are you going to do with it anyway?” Some deeper indication in this situation hit Bladewings’s processor and he realized something awful. “If you wanted some treat after school, we can go with my daddy.” 

  
“No, I’m good, thank you.” Aerostrike slumped and got ready to walk away before Bladewings stopped him.   
  
“What’s happening?” He asked with a pointed look. “We’re friends the moment you poked at my wing, so tell me.” he bent a bit and looked closely into those watery optics of the Autobot seeker. “I’ll keep it a secret.”

  
“It’s nothing secretive, everybot knows anyway.” He replied nonchalantly. “Senior students receive homage and protect us from those large and scary triple changers, a credit per day is the basic tier, I was too hungry so I used it to buy a treat......” He rubbed his midsection. “Anyway, you better get a tier too, those triple chargers like to pick tiny and unskilled fliers like us and drop up from heights, just to catch you before you crash into the ground, they always get away with it, saying it’s flight training for the new students.” He opticed the door. “The triple changer class is just next to ours, they will gather everybot that’s not on the day’s name roll and start training. The few seniors you saw before you enter were the ones keeping the name roll.” He finished his story.

Bladewings stared agape.   
  
“It’s okay, I can always find somebot with credit and if I don’t, the training isn’t exactly torturing either...... some never payed because they liked it.....” He prepared to walk away again.

”No, Aerostrike.” Bladewings stopped him before he left, again. “I don’t think it’s......”

Then the blearing sound of first school bell rang.   
  
“Shoot!” Aerostrike petrified. “Alright, I’ll just train today, brace yourself, you’re nothing better......” he rushed to his seat, so did everyone in the class.

He picked a seat in the corner, their first class was history. 

Although it seemed unfair he was actually excited to be airborne soon, too excited to focus when their mentor came in......


	45. Wheeljack

He look back at the school gate for the last time before he transformed and drove off. He weaved through the morning traffic, trying his best not to run into someone familiar, he’d been late for work in a couple of minutes. 

His tank roiled as he drove by a dining unit, the flavor of hot solvent and oils was so irresistible that he craved for the chance that he could drop by and grab a drink.

_But he couldn’t, he was late._

_Nah, just a few minutes, wouldn’t work well anyway without a cup or two.  
_

He pulled himself over.

And of course mechs knew him immediately when he transformed, he heard murmurs coming from everywhere when he walked to the vending machine, he ordered an intake-engagable jumbo-petroleum shake with extra boosters, he felt a little spooked when the whispers became heavier and heavier around him so he latched the container on his intake and transformers on the driveway out as soon as he could.

He indulged himself on the drink being automatically ingested through his odor sensors on the rest of his course. He transformed before his firm and finished the last drop of his beverage.

”Aww, hey, bud!” Preceptor was already in the office when the door slid down, a couple of other co-engineers of his clustered somewhere else talking about a hologram layout for a new building, they all turned and smiled warmly toward Wheeljack when he entered.

”Hi Percy.” He shifted a little and composed himself.

”How’s it going?” There was something in Perceptor’s optics that Wheeljack could tell immediately tell was something about himself, but apparently he didn’t know about. “Having fun?” He saw from the corner of his optics that his co-workers set their tools down and studied him up and down curiously.

”Not the faintest clue what you were talking about, I said it was my children, you know it’s anything but fun....” He shrugged cluelessly and kept walking towards his desk. “I’ve got a scrap-ton to do, I’d get right on it now.”   
  
“Hey hold on, apart from that fancy and weird name for ‘sparklings’, children? I thought you only had one.” Perceptor tilted his helm good naturedly, not knowing his nosiness doesn’t always help. “Anyway, you really shelled out _there_ , didn’t you?” He changed the topic after sensing some tension in Wheeljack’s field.

”What?” He was once again caught clueless. Agh, he shouldn’t have missed his day at work, these assistants of his could have set whatever pranks for him to fall into...... “Hey, Percy, I’ve got a lot to do.” He opticed the cluster of engineers to let them resume their discussion, which they did.  
  
“Alright, alright, but just don’t complain next time when we say you’re a bit dull, but hey, dull and nerdy bots like you still need some fun, don’t you? 10000 credits? You serious?” Perceptor perched on the ledge of his desk and showed him a hologram. Iacon Daily, dated two days ago, the title read......

_Generous Support from the Prodigy_

And he saw his 10000 credit check held hear a chest plate, in the picture. The mech’s face wasn’t shown due to privacy reasons but he recognized immediately it was the chest plate of that guard who led him into the cell room.

“Ugh, that Mechaf....” Wheeljack facepalmed and tightened his intake into a straight line. “Percy, I’d like to talk about this later if you must know okay?”   
  
“I’m not poking around here, it’s your privacy, I mean I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable, I was just trying to brighten up the day a little bit.” Perceptor looked earnest but Wheeljack’s faceplate was burning.   
  


_Heck! everybot on this planet knew._   
  


_And what a terrible misunderstanding!_

_What if Ratchet heard this!!!_


	46. Bladewings

He never flied since he was created, not that he remembered, his protocol was blocked before he met Wheeljack.

Now he felt every joint, every cog inside him was about the sky, every single streamlined components on him, his wings, air flaps and spoilers were ready to kiss the gliding air, all these feelings were like a part of him, and he couldn’t understand why some of his fellow students didn’t actually love flying and needed ‘protection.’   
  


Aside from marveling at his intrinsic feeling about his first flight, for the morning, he could only focus on those subjects related with aerodynamics, trajectory, transformation......whatever could help him with his first flying experience, for demonstration purposes, their mentor played some footages for them, a compilation of different achieved flyers on the battlefield, he even saw Decepticons on that introduction......

The morning was like a solar cycle for him, finally, students went to lunch, he halfheartedly swallowed some Energon truffle from the dispenser, and headed back to where their classrooms were located, the senior seekers were still there, but this time joined by a couple of huge students, they all had wings on their backs, but that’s where their resemblance with seekers ends, they also had wheels imbedded on the sides of their calves above their heels, one of them even had tank crawler belts swathed on their shoulders. The triple changers were creepily tall, even taller than the senior seekers, and were extremely bulky, casting huge shadows on the ground, completely engulfed the few jets of Bladewings’s age that were already there. 

He walked up and heard their conversations with those older seekers.

”Here you go, nameroll for the day.” Again, the tallest one, obviously in charge of this matter, tapped at the data emitter on his arm, then a ping in the belt-swathed triple-changer’s system signified the reception.

”Ha, got it.” The heavy changer’s deep voice was nothing like a sparkling’s, but was still laced with some juvenile tones. “Some of them really seem to enjoy it......hey, isn’t that?” 

“Yup, he’s new here, it seemed like nobot warned him to pay respect, but you know, we’re all about fairness here, so, just take him like you do with these little ones....” The tallest seeker opticed the tiny Autobots under the shadow, not all of them looked exactly excited, some of them wore a crestfallen look and were staring off, their distressed blue optics met with his, he casted a faked compassionate look at them with the exact opposite vibe in his spark.

”So, hey, Blade...wings? Is that right?” The tank-plane hybrid asked politely. 

“Yup.” He nodded for good measure, he almost forgot the fact that he was a Decepticon standing among a bunch of heavily framed Autobots who, not exaggerating, could crush him with their pedes.

“Hmm.” The tank then paused briefly, apparently searching his mind. “We’re still five short here, Gassy, bring Bladewings in.” He curled his digit at another student with high extruding exhaust stack on his shoulders, Bladewings couldn’t suppress his smirk.

”For the forty third time today......” The truck-and-plane protested, who did actually look troubled by the epithet a lot. 

“Your name is not Gassy, I get it! But would you please work on your temper a little bit, we’re grown mechs now, you need to know some romance and endearment.” The tank finished the sentence.

”Alright, screw that, now, Bladewings!” ‘Gassy’ waited until he gather his attention. “So later, like very soon, we’re gonna do the little game on the arial facility, and it’s basically like this, you stand still, and we pick you up......” 

“Ah, I already know that, it’s exciting!” Bladewings clasped his fists in front of his chest plate.

”Who kindly spared me the trouble of introducing?” Gassy’s optics widened and looked at him pointedly. 

“Umm, Aerostrike......” Bladewings looked over his shoulder. “here he is......” He pointed a digit at the extremely unwilling seeker.

”Ahh, the one who crapped all over me yesterday......” strangely Gassy’s expression was as amused as how disgusting what he said sounded.

Not everyone on the nameroll arrived, and they had to go over all the alcoves and crannies in the Academy just to find everybot, even those hidden inside grounder’s maintenance cells couldn’t get away.

Afterwards they were put in a line and escorted by those heavy formers towards the drilling facility.

More triplechangers were already there and they applauded and whistled as soon as the young flyers entered the facility, it was a giant transparent canopy with the highest roof he’d ever seen, and equipped with all sorts of perching apparatuses at different levels.

He wasn’t the first to go, and the one who was wasn’t a willing one, the scream when the poor thing began to plummet from the highest level was barely audible on the ground. Bladewings zoomed his optics in and saw the seeker desperately tried to transform but attempted nothing but wrong sequences, his legs were still unanchored when he was just above the last but second level, when another triplechanger perched there took off and caught him precisely before he hit the ground. 

The young Autobot looked awkward with his upper frame stuck in jet mode and his legs not working properly due to dread, streams of waste fluid flowed from his thighs and pooled by his pedes. 

Some of the giant changers went aside and started soothing the traumatized seeker before Bladewings’s turn came.

He was more than prepared, and finished his sequence in a second, waiting for a triplechanger to pick him up.

”Nope, that’s cheating.” He heard snickers from everybot. “I’m sorry but you gotta be in robot mode when I unload you.” 

He started to feel less excited but transformed back to his root mode nonetheless.

Then it was Gassy, who nodded and transformed but managed to leave his arms alone in order to grab Bladewings, the bulky cargo plane looked kind of funny this way, but Bladewings didn’t have that much time to be judgmental before he was already in the air and was ascending at a breathtaking speed, the ground looked farther and farther.

He though it was still a long way to the top and that he could rehearse the transformation in his processors but gravity disappeared before he could do any of that. 

Hi system warnings were deafening inside his helm, telling him that he was falling at gravitational acceleration, he couldn’t spare any of his processing capacity to think of anything else, let alone transforming. 

He started flailing his limbs trying to kick the sequence in gears but he couldn’t even tell where all his components were located relative to his helm, not when everything in his optics was a blur and he lost track of space all together, he could feel nothing but helpless and weak, waiting to crash into the ground and turn into a heap of scraps. 

It was like a groon passed before a mighty hand grabbed his midsection and he was back airborne, he steadily ascended for a brief second until the one catching him perched himself on a ledge.

Bladewings found himself sitting on a warm thigh armor, facing away from the changer, his waste valve was open without his knowing, he looked exactly like the first-goer.

”Sweetie, that wasn’t bad.” The deep voice belonged to nobot but the tank, he flipped Bladewings around, Bladewings watched as the smile on the giant mech’s face froze when he realized how he screwed up everything.

He picked up the optical protocol where it was dropped, and switched them back to blue, but the damage was already done.

”What in the actual pit?” The tank pushed him off his thigh. “What. Are. You!?” 

Then everything, everything that happened before Wheeljack got him out of the pound, replayed in his processor, and he knew that kind of functioning was about to start again. 

_Maybe this is what Autobots mean by ‘Decepticons are only good for pleasurebots.’ You were given a chance to start over as a normal being, but you had decided to throw it all away the second you wanted to try flying, you’re just a stupid, hubris little slut._

_But it wasn’t my fault!_

_Nothing was your fault, because it’s your destiny to be inferior to everybot else, to eat energon bars from your port, to suck spikes all day long, to be petted as a sparkling but used as a whore._

_No, please, I don’t want that._

_I’m afraid that you don’t have a choice on that._

“No, _please_......” He crouched into a trembling ball in his waste fluid, his optical lubricant joining the sloppy mess underneath him. 


	47. Bladewings

“Are you a Con?” The gigantic triple changer’s glistening optics hovered above him, a stark contrast with the vast shadow casted upon Bladewings, his voice wasn’t exactly full of hatred, _but it couldn’t be any good since a large proportion of the students lost their guardians during their war, thanks to his own guardians and their comrades, as stated by those Autobots back in the day when he still was at the pound._

The nothing stroke a peace of mind on his spark, maybe whatever happens next is what he deserved, the only thing he is ever capable of, and all good for in his functioning , is pay the debt owed by his guardians, about whom if he still had any substantial memory, was that they loved him, and he loved them back.

He was blessed to have known Wheeljack, the Autobot, in contrast with others, cared for him as a normal sparkling, and gave him a chance to live off as a normal being on this planet, but perhaps, he was never blessed with that kind of luck, he’s a Decepticon in his core, nothing can ever change the fact, and Decepticons are nothing, he just needed to accept the salient fact.

With everything resolved in his processor, he nodded and shifted his legs so that he was knelt properly, optics averted to the ground, like the good little slave he had beed, and ever will be.

”And you pissed on me.” The large Tank’s reaction wasn’t expected to say the least. _Why doesn’t he just call in a mentor and throw him back the pound already?_

”I’ll clean that for you.” But as a slave, he had to follow instructions, instead of making judgements.

He stuck out his glossa and hunched over toward the tank’s lap, the tip was almost there when the tank ducked away, his expression dumbfounded.

”Ewww! That’s gross!” The tank frowned his ridge. “You Decepticons are acting really weird these days.” 

“What’s so gross? And what Decepticon?” ‘Gassy’, who finished jettisoning another young flyer from the hight, perched on the same level as he and the tank.

“Heftor, this...this Bladewings, he’s a Decepticon.” He paused.

”What?” Heftor, who couldn’t believe his audials. “Were Decepticons allowed to join this Academy? Why would you say that? That can be rude.”

“No, no, I mean, his optics were all red just now, and he admitted it himself.” The tank’s gaze shifted to Bladewings’s optics. “Would you show him? Can you change the color intentionally?” 

Bladewings obliges.

The gassy Heftor was takes aback, he covered his intake with his servo.

”Should we report to the mentor?” The tank asked.

”It’s non of our business, is it......” Heftor remained on a evasive stance.

”Report me, please.” This time Bladewings spoke up, he know, from what he learned from the pound, that the best way to minimize pain is to be honest about everything, because sooner or later, he would be forced to do that anyway.

“You sure about that? Enforcers can send you to a scary place, my sire told me.” Heftor’s attitude almost made Bladewings have a second thought, no, Autobots never cared for Decepticons, so whatever he cannot afford to take another blow of deceit coated in sweet energon.

He nodded.

”I just don’t understand, anyway, at least let’s get him washed and buffed before he sees the mentor, then he’s all on himself.” Heftor suggested to the tank.

”Okay.” The tank shrugged.

The two giant formers escorted him out of the practice canopy and into their washracks, the two young triplechagers did quite a sloppy job cleaning Bladewings up, but at least there wasn’t any wastefluid on him afterwards, and he got a thick layer of suffocating wax on his finish.

Inside the chief mentor’s office, the tank relayed the entire event to a femm, which is a peculiar class of this planet, sitting behind the lofty desk in the middle of the room, and left the office.

"So Bladewings." The mentor lifted her helm after fumbling through the pile of datapads to give the terror-striken mechling standing in front of her a better look, at the same time bladewings saw her upper body, he took a mental snapshot and pinned it on his optical feed for studying, not daring casting her another glance again, as one of the first lessons he learned at the pound.

The femm's crown-like helmware laced with golden edges was the most conspicuous feature, not to be ignored, she had blue optical ridges and red colored stripes encompassing her optics, brancing out and extending to the sides of her faceplate. Bladewings never saw a femm before, he only heared about it from mechs. That's basically as far as his curiousity went, the femm sounded calm when she promounced his name, _is that a good thing?_

 _"_ Bladewings, would you look at me please?" He felt her gaze was seeking optic contact from him, his faceplate was burning, he heard a 'please' from an Autobot!

But he obliged, as he was ordered.

"Well, first thing would you show me again what they said about you so that I know this is not just a bully?" Her questining optics showed that she wasn't at all credulous about a Decepticon's presence on campus.

For a second he hesitated, maybe this is telling enough of what would happed if she was exposed to the truth too, which is ugly.

He shifted his optical color to his original, and adjusted the brightness so that it glows, anyway, if the Academy decided to investigate into this in the event that he failed to confess right now, things can only turn much uglier for him.

Just to make the situation worse, I-Beam called in on their spark link again.

::They found out, tell daddy.:: With lubricant swelled up in his optics, he pushed the message out.

::Found out what? Hey, Bladewi......:: He hang up and blocked their bond.

Taken aback, the femm's optics widened for a moment but still remained largely composed, how else would she react to a worthless little slave?

"You look scared." She looked into his red optics. "Would you tell me what's on your mind?" 

"When will I be sent back to The pound?" He just wanted to be prepared.

Surprisingly, the femm nodded understandingly. "First, you're my student, I'm obligated to many tasks for you but sending a student to The pound is never one of them. Second, the Academy does not discriminate against any class of Cybertronian even if you are indeed a Decepticon, and I believe that you hadn't done anything wrong as your frame-parents did. My name is Windblade, and yours is Bladewings, which leads to my third point that you and I akin to each other." She smiled. "I think Wheeljack told you to keep your optics blue, but you look great with red optics." She tilted her helm adoringly.

"No......everyone here hates Decepticons." 

"You need to understand them, and accept the fact, many of them are orphanized because of the war." Her expression became grim. "But let me help you with that, now you may return to your activity, dismissed." 

Bladewings silently moved out from the office, not believing himself, he opened up his spark link, glad that he could still do so by now.

::BLADEWINGS! Damn it you're back! Did they find out that you're a Decepticon?::

::Yes they did.::

::What? How? And what're they gonna do?::

::Nothing.:: 


	48. Bladewings

::What do you mean nothing? Like nothing nothing?:: Beam was still lingering on his adrenaline rush. ::What do they tell to do next? Where are you now?::

::Please, Beam, I don’t get it either, for me it’s just too good to be true.:: He paused. ::If anything happens...... I’m just gonna face my fate, be what I used to be, can’t be any worse......:: 

::Blades, don’t you dare allow yourself get touched, if anything happen to you, I.....Wheeljack, daddy will come and.....:: Beam’s troubled voice was unmistakable.

::Please just leave me alone for a while, see you after school.:: He blocked his telecom.

The rest of the day was rather easy for Bladewing, he crouched in a corner of the classroom, looking small as can be, he still received confused, even menacing gazes from those fellow sparklings who saw his blunder at skydiving, with so many loose ends, he knew that this secret isn’t just between him, the triple formers and Windblade, the cops are gonna get on Wheeljack’s aft and put him into his place swiftly and without mercy. Nothing from the lecture stuck in his mind, the ramification alone made him want to scream. He wanted to see his Dad, Wheeljack as soon as he can, he’s the only mech on this planet that had ever made him feel secure and protected. He didn’t understand why Wheeljack was one of the Autobots for how distinct he was from the others.

Even if he’s protected, that still comes at a price, he must stay under cover all the time, be someone he wasn’t, he was born a Decepticon, and as everyone else says, he will remain to be one no matter what form he takes, blue or red optics, polished and waxed or covered in transfluid and dirt, he was what he was.

Maybe he shouldn’t try to be anything else. 

“Hey.”

He stared off.

“Hey, are you all right, Bladewings?”A digit poked at his shoulder, he startled.It was Windblade, and he was sitting in an otherwise empty classroom. I-Beam was peeking into his classroom at the door.

”No, no, where’s dad?” He shifted unnaturally. 

“He called.” Windblade replied swiftly. “And he knew your incident at the training facility. I’m here to send you home on his command.” 

“I guess we can just walk home.” He got off his seat, gazing at the femm untrustingly. 

“No, I will not let you do that.” She sounded adamant. “We don’t know how many students saw you today, until we clear the air and come up with a better solution.” 

“Why does he trust you so much?” Wheeljack’s distinguished compassion for Decepticons struck his mind again. “Other Autobots just keep coming after me.” 

“Not me.” She squatted before him for a long talk. “We worked together as a team. Led by Optimus Prime.” She popped up a Hologram of Team Prime on her forearm for good measure, Bladewings’s optics fixated on the slowly rotating image, on Wheeljack, then Windblade.

”Who is Optimus Prime?” His optics averted to meet with hers.

”For a quick fact, Orion Pax, I bet Wheeljack told you about the saga, that’s him.” Seeing Blades’s stunned expression, she smiled slightly and stood up. “Save the stories for the flight, you ready to come with me now?” 

Bladewings hesitantly nodded.

”It’ll be a little cramped with the two of you inside my cockpit, if you fit in at all.” She transformed into her plane mode.

”Then I’ll fly along, Bladewings initialized his sequence. “Beam will go with you.”

”Out of the question, I’ll walk you home if you don’t both fit, c’mon!” Wheels on her wings started spinning, her powerful engine sending waves of hot wind onto Bladewings’s frame.

Luckily, cramped as it was, they were just able to lock the hatch back in place. 

“Let’s kiss the air!” Windblade took off with such acceleration that both Beam and Blades were pushed against their seat.

He watched as everthing below him became smaller and smaller, so did Beam, who was in much more awe.

He too wanted to fly some day, not like what at noon though, but it feel so good.

But again, perhaps that’s too much of a luxury for a little con like him.


	49. Tarn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just kinda feel like writing again. Cuz I’m horny. yes

Acid Storm was flaccid and cuddly in his laps, barely maintaining his signs of functioning, from the corner of his mouth dribbled drops of the Energon Tarn fed him. Astrotrain was no better, leaning against the field bar of their confined cell picking up the faintest noise of pedesteps of coming service bots, perhaps carrying the little cube of low grade they were rationed. 

He himself, just watched his starving friends——fellow-ex-cons/prostitutes, with his optics that barely kept open. 

They didn’t spend a huge amount of time(from what his chronometer told him) being here- not compared to their time being well fed and when their mere purpose is to interface, and most of it was in pitch darkness and dead silence, but it is the most painful experience the tank had in his functioning. They were getting so used to their diet in the porn studio that they could handle the slightest of hunger, not to mention hours, if not days of starvation, their last ration arrived at vorn 150 which was like forever ago. Armors started to peel off them as the hours prolonged, revealing their necrotizing and rusting excess of protoform. Acid Storm took this the hardest, the rapid degeneration was too much for his seeker spark and chips to handle. 

Tarn wouldn’t normally care, not Tarn of DJD, not even Tarn caring for his friend, but the moment days ago he just dragged the unresponsive Acid Storm over to himself and bit into his wrist energon supply. The warm, glowing pink fluid came spurting out of the little cut before he shoved that side of his wrist into Acid’s intake.

”Are you insane?” Astrotrain gasped. “Mecha die from doing that.....”

”Shhh..... Just keep watching, you!” Tarn tried to summon his leader that used to be inside him but only soft hissing came from his vocalizer. “He is dying!”

”Says you.” Astro shook his helm and leaned back on that field bar.

Acid was never out of stasis since he fainted at vorn 350 but he was functioning on the energon Tarn gave him, for which Tarn is content, _maybe I’m just deluded into believing Acid is worth saving._

He entertained that thought several times, on vorn 393, he doesn’t feel that servo anymore, just over vorn 430, the arm he bit open was also getting numb and cold, but there’s something satisfying watching his energon dribble into his companion’s intake. 

He observed the internal energy level plummeting on his glitchy optical feed, he know it wouldn’t be a couple of vorns before he slip into that oblivious slumber, just like Acid Storm, before he will forever be gone, an idea which wasn’t entire scary like it was if he were still in the brothel. 

_Probably this is Tarn, ultimately dying from helping this little green thing between his laps._

Then light was turned on, his optics shrank in response but that light still burned his photon receptors. He couldn’t see but hear Astro’s scrambled up, his servos grasping the cell bars.

Then he smelled that fragrance only the most robust and refined high grade would have. _He knew it, he knew that the cops wouldn’t just starve them offline!_

He also crawled towards the light, in which his adjusting optics picked up a standing silhouette, two blue spots of light staring at him. 

“Please, master, give us energon.” He heard Astro’s coarse voice, not the optimal type of begging to get fuel from a server bot. 

“You guys last longer than I thought......” The Bot exclaimed. “Well, but obviously you still don’t learn respect do you? I keep your afts online just so you can disrespect me? And you just piss off the only one who handles your fuel like that?” The Bot was obviously intoxicated, Tarn knew how to deal with this.

”Please, my master! My Great Lord! We are willing to do whatever you want!” Tarn hesitated ever so briefly. “We are honored to intake what you give us.” He gripped the bar and pulled himself up, kneeling before the Bot, trying to look insignificant and submissive, but his optics locked on the half bottle of higrade in the Bot’s servo.

Looking obviously turned on, the Bot considered. “Well, I’m not into fragging three rusty rotting ‘Cons, so what do you have to offer?” Before Tarn could process the question. “Yeah, I got it.”

The bot turned away from the cell, and held the bottle in front of his pelvis, Tarn could see a murky stream of fluid entered the bottle and accumulated above the denser pink fluid beneath, after the bottle was finally filled, the Bot turned back to them, shaked the bottle so everything is mixed, and passed the bottle between the bars. “You starvin’? Take this.” 

Tarn immediately reached for it but before he even touched the bottle, the Bot released his servo, the container fell on the ground and shattered into pieces, its content splattered and formed different puddles on the cell floor.

”You wanna hasten up, cus that floor absorbs fluids.” The bot scolded. “also cus I wanna watch your clean your cell up right now.” 

Without a second of hesitation, Tarn and Astrotrain both hunched over with their glossa sticking out, that familiar flavor totally excited his processors with pure joy and content, he was enjoying the flavor so much that he could barely tasted the waste fluid, which add to his enjoyment because the thought of taking his masters waste fluid turns him on. 

“Needy little Con’s, everybot’s gotta see this enough.” The Bot was busy filming them licking the waste-energon mixture from the ground. 

_This couldn’t have gotten any better_ , realizing how many more Cybertronians would know what a willing slave he was, and how much more publicity he would get, even when he’s in jail. 

“You guys like that?” The bot, who finished filming when they just retained the last drops of that liquid their glossa could pick up. “I’ll give you more tomorrow, with extra waste fluid and solid excretions from......” 

”Yes, master, please.” Astrotrain interjected.

”You have it.” The bot winked. “See ya!” 

**Author's Note:**

> Please kindly leave comments, advice will be appreciated and well taken, even things like my intermittently glitching English. XD


End file.
